


Watercolour

by Gefionne



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Mass Effect 2, Pre-Mass Effect 3, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between Mass Effect 2 and Mass Effect 3: Joker, Shepard, and the crew of the Normandy are trying to stay afloat after the damage they took in Collector space. They can't know how long they have before the Reapers will arrive, but they are doing everything they can to prepare—including telling off the Council and Cerberus, picking up reinforcements, and trying to understand Reaper technology—before it’s too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I purposefully don't use Shepard's first name. I want anyone who reads to be able to get into it with their own character (female, in this case). This Shepard is a Vanguard, though, so sorry if that messes with your zen.
> 
> The title is borrowed from a track by the Aussie drum and bass group Pendulum, which has been on repeat since I started writing. Check it out if you're interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEPB7uzKuh4.

“Just...one...more...connection,” Joker panted, his tongue peeking out from between his lips.  He had managed to shimmy both himself and the tools down into the crawl space next to his cockpit chair.  The lower panel was mostly crushed and had been easy enough to knock off, but the mess of cut wires and chemical smoke from melted plastic made his eyes and nose burn.

More than an hour after he started, he was close to finishing the repairs.  The last two wires sparked as they made contact, burning a patch of hair off the back of his hand.

“Ow!  Hell with this,” he grumbled, examining the singed hair.  A blue glow illuminated his reddening skin.

“I believe you will find that your chair has regained most of its functionality, Jeff,” said EDI from her perch above him.  “Though most of the lubricating fluid has been lost, you should be able to get one hundred and eighty degrees of rotation.”

“Color me satisfied,” he replied, struggling to his feet.  “At least I'll be able to get in and out.”

“Actually the rotational radius is limited to the space between my console and the defense display.”

Joker pressed his fingers against his forehead and up into his hair.  “Well, we'd better get to the Citadel before I have to pee, because once I get into that chair I'm not getting out.”

“According to your body mass,” EDI continued, “Grunt, Jacob, or Legion could easily lift you into and out of—”

He gave the hologram a distasteful look.

“Jack, Miranda, or Samara could use their biotics—”

“EDI, shut up,” he growled as he pulled on his SR-2 hat.

She was silent for a moment, and then said, rather indignantly, “Logging you out, Helmsman Moreau.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Joker muttered as he strode aft.  He stopped to pat the airlock door, which had been welded shut.  The section of the hull beyond it was barely holding together, much like the rest of the _Normandy_ and her crew.

“We're two of a kind, baby,” Joker said.  “Limping along together.”

The Combat Information Center was empty except for the ship's hologram, which glowed red in most places.  The majority of the crew was below working on the more vital systems and trying to make the main deck livable.

Tali and Engineer Donnelly had managed to get the second starboard thruster back online, but _Normandy_ was still running at a third of her power.  By Joker's reckoning, it would take them four hours to reach the Sarhabarik Mass Relay from where the Omega 4 had landed them.

As he was nearing the elevator, the communicator on his Omni-tool beeped.  He jumped and dropped the toolbox he was carrying.  Wire connectors, pliers, and screws scattered across the floor.  “Damn it!”  He opened the voice channel on his Omni-tool as he knelt down.  “What?”

“Joker,” said Dr. Solus.  “Glad to have caught you before you went below.  Have finished compiling data from Collector base and Reaper.  Fascinating technology.  Still needs processing, of course.  Months, maybe years of processing.”

“That's great, Mordin,” Joker grumbled, gathering up bits and pieces and depositing them haphazardly into the toolbox.  “Couldn't you have called the Commander with this enchanting news?”

“Have downloaded overview onto a datapad for her.  Mind taking it down with you?  Rather...how do humans say it? 'wrapped up' in here.”

Joker tried to close the lid of the toolbox only to realize that the plastic catch had snapped off.  “Cheap Terminus crap.  Yeah, sure, Mordin, I'll be right there.”

“Very grateful.  Solus out.”

Trying to ignore the groaning of his knees, Joker got to his feet and made his way into the lab.

Mordin was facing away from the door, surrounded almost completely by holographic diagrams of ship parts and ever-changing equations and calculations.  When he heard Joker's irregular footfalls, he gestured to a datapad lying on his desk.

“This all I need, Doc?”

“Yes,” Mordin replied without looking up.  “Tell Shepard that there will be more soon.  No time to chat now.  _Truly_ amazing...”

With a feeble wave, Joker made his way back out, into the elevator, and onto the engineering deck.

“Watch it!” cried Engineer Daniels as Joker sauntered out of the elevator.  She managed to steer the massive piece of equipment she was wheeling around him, but she hit the toolbox full on.  It, again, vomited its contents at Joker's feet.

“Learn to drive!” he snapped.

“Sorry, Joker,” Gabby called as she disappeared into the drive core room.

He sighed and bent down to pick up the tools.

“Let me get that,” Tali said, kneeling faster than Jeff would ever be able to.  He leaned back against the wall in relief.

“Sorry about Daniels,” the quarian continued.  “Things are a little nuts down here.  How did you do with your chair?”

“Like a pyjack trying to perform heart surgery with a pipe wrench,” he admitted.  “EDI says it's something with the lube.”

“I'll bring something up as soon as I can,” said Tali as she stood up.  She flicked at the broken latch.  “Cheap Terminus—ah, I mean...human products are great...for a while.”

Joker grinned, clapping her on the shoulder.  “Hey, I don't make the stuff.  Thanks for the loan, Tali.  Don't worry about the chair.  I'm sure you've got bigger problems.”

“Well,” she sighed, resting against the wall beside him, “Garrus is helping Donnelly and Daniels with the thrusters, but progress is slow.  Most of the parts can be salvaged, but it's going to take time.”

“How long's it been since you've slept?” Joker asked, rubbing his eyes.  “Or eaten?”

“Dr. Chakwas came by with a couple of tubes of nutrient paste a few minutes ago.”  She shot him a sidelong glance from inside her helmet.  “It's a not a good meal, but it fills more than the coffee you humans seem to rely on.”

“Mm, a cup of coffee would be perfect right now,” Joker sighed.  “Best served with a month of shore leave.”

Tali's eyes narrowed.  “Do you think we will have that long?”

He shrugged.  “Dunno.  It was two years before.  Even if we don't get that, a few months would put some pep back in my step…er, so to speak.”  He held up the datapad.  “Mordin's wound up like I've never seen him.  I mean, he doesn't sleep much as it is and runs around like Shepard’s hamster on steroids, but I don't think he's been out of the lab for even a nap since we got out of Collector space.  Whatever he's got on the Reapers he put on here for the Commander.  Have you seen her?”

“Last time I heard anything, she was stabilizing life support with Thane and Samara.”  She glanced down at her Omni-tool.  “But that was two hours ago.”

“Yeah, well,” Joker said, stretching, “I'd better get this to her just in case I'm being optimistic about that month.”

“See you around,” Tali said, waving.

Joker punched Shepard's call number into his Omni-tool.  After a moment, her voice came through, “Shepard here.”

“Hey, Commander, I've got a present for you from Mordin.”

“I'm in cargo.”

"Copy that.  Be there shortly.”

“Shepard out.”

Joker took a deep breath.  The Commander's responses were only that curt when she was particularly pissed off, but even then, it wasn't often she allowed the pilot to come to her, even when he insisted that he needed to stretch his legs.  He braced himself for her terrible mood.

She was lifting a massive piece of the inner hull with her biotics when he entered the main cargo bay.  Legion, on a ladder, was making repairs to the mechanical parts underneath the plating.

“Process complete, Shepard-Commander,” it hummed as the flame on its welding tool went out.

“Good.  Coming down,” she replied, her voice strained by the effort of lowering the steel plate back into place.  As it hovered, Legion started replacing the screws, starting with the corners.  After a number of screws he announced that the plate was stable.

Shepard let the biotics fade, her shoulders falling noticeably.  Joker took a few steps forward.  A one-sided smile touched her lips when she saw him.

“What’ve you got for me?” she asked, striding over.  She certainly sounded more cheerful and awake than she looked.  Dark circles rimmed her eyes; her lips were dry and cracked.  Joker was certain he wasn’t looking much better.

He handed her the datapad.  “It's what he has for now.  He'll download more as it comes.”

She flicked the datapad on, her brows furrowing.  Jeff spotted a number of greasy fingerprints on the back, near where she was holding it.  He glanced down at his hands; he hadn't noticed the gray lubricant that covered his fingers.

“Working on the cockpit electronics?” Shepard asked, smiling up from the diagrams.

“Yeah,” he muttered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“This is good,” Shepard said, stashing the datapad in the leg pocket of her pants.  “A start anyway.  Thanks for bringing it down, Joker.  I’ve had my hands a little full down here.”

“No problem, Commander,” he said as he watched her rub the base of her skull, where the main biotic amps were implanted.  “Can't you get Jack or Miranda to spell you for a while?”

“They've been clearing the debris on the main deck,” she said.  “On opposite sides, of course.  It goes quicker when there's only a pair of them instead of a gaggle of hands getting in the way of each other.”

“You might as well leave the grunt work to us, Shepard, and start thinking about what our next move is.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Or maybe get some sleep.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” she laughed, her face brightening.

_Four_ , Joker thought as he swallowed his response.  Much to his satisfaction, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he thought something inappropriate about his commanding officer.

Shepard turned heads, but usually because she was wearing her full battle armor.  Most people noticed the grenade launcher on her back before they looked at her face.  Still, if he had met her in a bar instead of on the flight deck of the SR-1, Joker would have made a pass at her.  Right before he got the shit kicked out of him, of course.  She wasn't a conventional beauty, but Shepard was pretty and she definitely had a killer body.

_Five_.

"I guess I had better go wash up,” he said, holding out his upturned hands.

Still grinning, Shepard reached out and ran her thumb down his forehead from the hairline to the bridge of his nose.  “You'd better get your face, too.”

Jeff stumbled back a step, tugging on the brim of his hat.  “Yeah, ugh...will do, Commander.”

The smile faded and her arm fell back to her side.  She said, “Carry on,” as she turned back to check on Legion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joker takes a shower and a nap (and receives the turian equivalent of the finger), Shepard chats with Miranda about the Illusive Man, and the damaged Normandy arrives at the Citadel.
> 
> This one's for GLOWCULT, who commented and let me know that someone wanted to see more of this. Otherwise, I would have done more homework instead.

The showers were empty as Joker walked in, though the fogginess of the mirrors indicated that whoever had come through hadn’t left long before.  Pulling his hat off, Joker hung it on one of the hooks on the wall.

He hadn’t given Shepard a backward glance as he headed back toward the elevator, but after a minute or two or complaining to himself about the heat and contemplating demanding that EDI run a diagnostic of the climate control systems, he realized that his face, neck, and chest were putting off the heat of a small sun.  The thrumming noise he heard wasn’t coming from the _Normandy_ ’s laboring engines but from the pounding of his heart.  He had leaned back against the wall of the elevator, taking a few breaths to force the blush from his skin.

Joker unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops of his pants.  It joined his hat on the hook.  He tossed his boots unceremoniously to the floor beneath them.  Stripping, he balled up his shirt, pants, and socks—standard issue Cerberus boxers or briefs were not a part of his wardrobe, though he often wondered if he could get a set with the Illusive Man’s face on the ass—and stuffed them down the laundry chute.  They would appear, freshly washed, in his locker in a few hours.  Laundry service on the _Normandy_ was fully automated and EDI didn’t take kindly to his teasing her about being a washerwoman.  Such a chore was simple mechanics, _far_ _below_ even her most basic functions.

Naked, Joker gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror, noting the smear of grease on his face.  He turned away, set the temperature control of the shower to its hottest, and stepped into the scalding spray.

For as long as he could remember, people had called him crazy because of the temperature of his showers, but somehow he never felt clean unless his flesh was red and fiery when he got out.  The heat also relaxed his joints a little, easing the aches and pains.

“Hot water cleans a wound better than cold,” he remember Shepard telling him once as the crew sat at dinner.

“Cold showers keep your senses sharper,” Jack, who was sitting next to the Commander, countered.

Joker had rolled his eyes.  He caught Shepard smiling as she looked away from him and back down at her ravioli.

He wondered what Shepard would do in a shower as hot as this…

The soap squelched out of his hand as his fingers tightened around the bar.  “Hell.”  He left the soap for someone with better flexibility, turning his face up into the water instead.

 _Six_ , he thought as he shook his head like a dog, making his hair stick up in all directions.  So much for the one-handed count.  _One-handed…_   He tried to put that idea out of his mind, but—

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, looking down at himself.  “Six passing thoughts do not make up enough material for what you have planned.”

He angrily grabbed a bottle of shampoo and worked some of it into his hair.  He concentrated on the algorithms necessary to make an FTL jump throughout the rest of his shower, toweled off, and dressed in a fresh uniform.  Jacob strode in as he was fastening his belt.  They nodded to each other.

Joker stepped around Garrus on his way out.

“Heading to the bridge?” the turian asked.

“Yeah,” Joker replied, stifling a yawn.  “I have to make sure EDI hasn’t messed with my flight parameters.  How’re the thrusters?”

“Not putting out as much power as I’d hoped,” Garrus replied, shrugging, “but Shepard ordered us off duty.  She wants us to get some sleep.”  He gave Joker a wry look.  “I don’t think you’ll last long on the bridge, if she’s not already up there waiting to tell you to bed down.”

“Then I’d better get up there,” Joker said.  “Don’t let Jacob see your crazy turian bits, Vakarian.”

Garrus made a gesture that Joker had come to understand as quite rude on Palaven and disappeared into the restroom.

There was no sign of Shepard when Joker arrived in the cockpit.  Instead, there was a note tacked to the back of his chair.  It was covered in a series of lines and circles—some filled and some empty—that his optical translator rendered as: “Got it working again.  Just needed some oil.  Tali.”

Grinning, Joker sat down and spun his chair around a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees.  It stuck a little at five o’clock, but that could be ignored.

“I thought you might like to know,” EDI said, her hologram blinking into existence, “that Tali’Zorah did repairs in five minutes that took you an hour to complete.”

Joker raised an eyebrow at her.  “Shut the hell up, EDI, and let me get some rest.”

“I thought you were going to check the flight parameters to make sure I didn’t ‘tamper’ with your work,” she continued.

“I trust you,” he admitted as he pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes.

EDI dimmed the cockpit lights.

* * *

 

Commander Shepard woke, gasping for air, at the sound of her alarm.  She slapped the snooze button, her pulse slowing with cybernetically enhanced speed.  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with balled fists.  Though she wasn’t consciously able to remember the details of her death, her body did, and it reminded her occasionally with breathless awakenings.

Throwing the covers off of herself, she slid out of bed and over to where she had laid out a clean uniform the night before.  Cold, she dressed quickly.

“Shepard,” EDI announced.  “Operative Lawson is requesting access to your quarters.”

“She’s welcome,” Shepard replied as she laced her boots.

The door opened and Miranda, dressed in her black and orange Cerberus jumpsuit, swept in.  Without invitation, she sat in the middle of the sofa.  Shepard remained in her place by her desk and waited.

“Commander,” Miranda said, icily calm, “I’ve just heard from the Illusive Man.  He’s made a decision regarding your _discussion_ yesterday.”

Shepard frowned.  The Illusive Man had wanted her to keep the Reaper larva for Cerberus to study and use; she had refused and destroyed it, but not before scanning it and uploading massive amounts of data to Mordin’s computers.

“As you’ve made perfectly clear from the beginning of this operation,” Miranda continued, “you are not a Cerberus operative.  The Illusive Man knew the risks when he decided not to implant the control chip I suggested in your brain.  I forwarded the information Dr. Solus has amassed so far about Reaper technology to him—”

“You hacked my datapad,” Shepard said, glancing over to where the pad Joker had given her lay.

Miranda nodded, unabashed.  “The Illusive Man made a brilliant choice in Dr. Solus.  He is truly the most incredible scientist I have even met.  The work he has done combined with the data EDI has been able to make sense of have given us a basic understanding of Reaper hardware and internal processes.  The Illusive Man has created a new cell called Genesis to add manpower to the studies.”

“How fitting,” Shepard mused.  “Well, what’s he going to do with me then?”

“Shepard,” Miranda said, allowing herself to sigh, “you’re the galaxy’s greatest asset whether or not you behave as the Illusive Man wants you to.  He knew that, and now I do too.  I’ve seen what you can do on the battlefield and with your team.  You helped me save my sister.  I’m on your side.  The Illusive Man wants to stop the Reapers and protect humanity.”  She smiled, sitting back.  “We’ll deal with the internal drama when we save everyone and go home happy.”

“That certainly simplifies things a bit,” Shepard laughed.  “I didn’t want to have to toss you off at the nearest port and commandeer the _Normandy_.”

“I would say that EDI would simply take control and return her to Cerberus,” Miranda said, smirking, “but now that the controls have been released, EDI makes her own decisions, except to destroy the ship and kill us all of course.”

“I am forbidden to harm a human being, Operative Lawson,” the AI said, her disembodied voice echoing around them.  “It is the first line of my programming.”

“That’s comforting,” Shepard muttered.

“Cerberus plans prudently, Commander,” Miranda said.  “And speaking of plans, the Illusive Man received this message from an anonymous source.  I can only assume it’s your friend Liara.”  She held out a datapad, which Shepard took.

The message read only: “Rana Thanoptis.”

Shepard considered the name for a moment.  “Thanoptis…the asari neuroscientist from Virmire?”

“And Korlus,” Miranda added, nodding.  “She finished her work there a month ago and has been living on Omega since.”

“She studied the effects of Indoctrination,” Shepard said, brows knit.  “Is Liara suggesting that she could help us understand Reaper technology?”

Miranada shrugged.  “I have no idea what she was suggesting, but that’s as much as I can extrapolate.  I would suggest placing a call to Sowilo.”

“I’ll—” Shepard started, only to be interrupted by EDI, who said, “Commander, we are approaching the Citadal.  Docking procedure in less than one minute.”

“Be right there,” Shepard said.  “Anything else I should know right now, Miranda?”

“Not that I can think of, Commander,” she replied, turning to leave.  “Well…”  She hesitated.

Shepard laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled.  “Permission to speak freely.”

For once, Miranda looked tired.  “I know the time before the Reaper attack is unknown, Shepard, but letting the crew have a day or two of leave might help keep them together.  I’d like to call Oriana.”

* * *

“Citadel Traffic Control, this is CSV  _Normandy_ requesting permission to dock,” Joker said as he guided the ship down from FTL.

“Copy, _Normandy_ ,” replied the control officer in the sultry alto a turian female.  “You are cleared to dock at Zekera Nine, but mind your manners.  Not everyone on the station is so fond of you, Cerberus.”

“You sound like my mother, officer,” Joker grumbled.  “‘Watch yourself, young man.  Remember what happened last time…’”

Much to his surprise, there was laughter on the other end of the comm.  “Now wash up for dinner and don’t let the airlock door hit you on the way out.  CTC out.”

Joker grinned.  “After having delayed galactic holocaust at the hands…well, legs or claws or whatever…of the Reapers, it’s kind of comforting to come back and hear that life still goes on for the snooty pricks on the Citadel.”

“It _is_ reassuring in a way, isn’t it?” asked Shepard, striding up behind him.  She was wearing her full armor.

“People concerned with the day-to-day crap they think is important while we limp back from saving their ignorant lives?” Joker replied, shooting her a wry grin.  “Yeah.  It’s good to know that every store I walk into on the station will still greet me with ‘I’m Commander Shepard…’”

She made a face.  “You weren’t complaining when I brought you that interface upgrade which I would _not_ have been able to afford without a discount.”

“What, you didn’t spend your allowance on that just because you love me and wanted to give me a present?”

“Just dock the damn ship, Joker.  And put me through to the crew.”

He opened the channel and nodded to her.

“This is Shepard,” she said, leaning her arms against the headrest of his chair.  “We’re about to dock at the Citadel.  We’ll have two days to buy provisions and make the most critical repairs.  We’ll get the rest of them done at Omega, where we’re bound next.  We can’t know how long we have before the Reapers enter the Milky Way, but we’ll be on the station for a while, if we can be, to research and listen through the channels for news. 

“You, all of you, have done more than I ever could have asked on this mission.  Though the Reapers are still out there and there’s still fighting to do, I will not fault anyone who wants to jump ship here.  From the Citadel you can catch a flight back to Earth or your home colonies.

“For anyone who intends to stay on, take care of personal business while you’re here.  I don’t know how good comm channels will be from Omega or how long we have until...”  She sighed.  “Just enjoy yourselves if you can.  Shepard out.”

“You think we’ll lose a lot?” Joker asked, turning his chair slowly around.  The _Normandy_ was safe within the grasp of the docking clamps; his job was done for the moment.

“Dunno,” Shepard said.  “I hope not.  This is a good crew.”  She looked down, raising an eyebrow at Joker.  “‘We’?”

He stood, shooting her a dark look.  “You don’t think I’m packing _my_ bags, do you?”  He gestured around him.  “Give up all this for a dingy transport ship?  Hell no, Shepard.  I’m with you to the end.”

“Thank you, Joker,” she said, grasping his hand.

He began to feel the same heat he had felt the day before spread over his face and neck.  It was difficult for him to respond.  He finally managed, “You’re…my commander, Shepard.  When you go somewhere, I’ll get you there more stylishly than any other man in the galaxy.  Even if it’s to hell and back…again.”

Shepard laughed weakly.  “It wouldn’t be the _Normandy_ without you.”

Joker cleared his throat, willing the blood to stop pounding in his ears.  “You going go talk to Captain Anderson while you’re here?” he asked, groping for a different subject.

Her smile faded.  “I’ll stop by.  I doubt there’s anything he’ll be willing or able to do to help us.  I may not be Cerberus’s cheerleader, but at least they’re still willing to do more than the Council or the Alliance to stop the Reapers.”

“I hear that, Commander.”

“Hear what, Joker?” Tali asked as she and Garrus arrived in the cockpit.  Both were armed to the teeth.  Tali carried a handwritten list.

“Voices, voices!” Joker cried, clutching at his head.  “So many voices!”

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “Try to keep it together while we’re ashore, Moreau.”  The three of them headed out of the airlock.

Joker readjusted his hat and started to make his way aft.  Jack, Grunt, and Jacob were chattering loudly as they stepped off the elevator.  For once, Jack was wearing decent clothes—inhibiting the view of course—and a pair of sunglasses, likely to keep a low profile.  She was still a wanted criminal after all.

“You’ve never tried tequila?” Jacob demanded of Grunt.  “You may be an adult krogan after your rite, but you aren’t a man in human culture until you’ve done shots.”

“Planning on getting good and drunk so that Shepard and I have to fight the Reapers alone while you guys hold each other’s hair back?” Joker called to them.

“What?  You’ve never heard of Fazanex?” asked Jack, showing him the inside of her jacket, which was lined with syringes  “One shot of this and you’re stone-cold sober.  If the Reapers hit us tonight, no matter how drunk I am, I’ll be ready.  Wouldn’t want to let you have all the fun.”  The fist she held up glowed blue.

Jacob made a face at her and then looked at Grunt.  “You think that stuff will work on a krogan?”

“If it doesn’t, I do have a redundant nervous system,” Grunt laughed, clapping Jacob on the back so hard he almost fell.

“That’s the spirit!” Jack cackled, pulling him toward the airlock.

“Later,” Jacob said to Joker as he followed them.

Joker shook his head.  As he got onto the elevator, though, he pulled up a contact on his Omni-tool that he hadn’t used in ages and sent a message.  Maybe an old friend would get a drink with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient with me! I changed this up a lot before I finished it. Shepard's conversation with Miranda turned out completely different than I had originally planned. I like it a lot better.
> 
> I'll whip out the next chapter as fast as I can around my finals.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard goes to see Councilor Anderson on the Citadel and recalls the first time she saw Joker after her death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. This one is significantly longer than the chapters before it. It's also closer to the end of my semester so I have lots of papers. Thanks for being patient.

Shepard glanced around Zekra Ward as she, Garrus, and Tali were waved through the security checkpoint. Her brain had been dormant for two years, and only the differences in her old haunts marked the passage of time. Familiar as she had become with the reconstructed Wards and Presidium, they were never the images that came to her mind when she thought of the Citadel. Though she would never admit it, she missed Chora’s Den. None of the new bars could match it for sleaze.

Garrus called her name. “We’re going down the Lower Markets to see if we can find the parts for the thrusters.”

“They would be cheaper on Omega,” Tali grumbled, looking at the list she carried.

“There’s no guarantee they’ll be there,” Garrus retorted, frowning at her. “We’ve discussed this ten times. _Normandy_ is too new for most of the rust-collectors at Harrot’s.”

Tail crossed her arms and _hmph_ ed, but took a step toward the stairs to the lower level. “Well, are you coming or not?”

“You two go,” Shepard said, tossing a credit chit to Garrus. “Shop your hearts out. I have to pay a visit to the Presidium.”

“Are you sure you want to go alone?” Tali asked. “ _Councilor_ Anderson is—”

Shepard waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine. I’m not going to talk to him in an official capacity. It’s just friendly.”

“Still,” warned Garrus, “watch yourself, Shepard. The Council, even the human faction, isn’t as fond of you as they used to be.”

“Especially since you told the turian Councilor to go to hell,” Tail chuckled, “and left the Spectres.”

“Yeah, well,” said Shepard, shrugging, “if they weren’t going to help us… I can’t wait to see their faces when the Reapers show up, so they can watch as we send those machines crying back into dark space.”

“You sound just like Joker,” Garrus said, flaring his mandibles with laughter. “Sometimes I think his smartass commentary is the only thing that keeps me from losing it on this mission. Hmm…it sounds kind of pathetic when you put it that way…”

“We’re a team,” said Tali, clapping his shoulder, “it’s supposed to work like that.”

“She’s right, old friend,” Shepard said, smiling. “Now go buy some parts to fix up the _Normandy_. I hate seeing her limp like this.”

“Seconded,” Garrus said, snatching the list from Tali. He turned it upside down and made a face at her. “You Quarians can _read_ this?”

She shot him a dirty look, and then waved. “See you around, Commander.”

Shepard made her way over the transportation station and called a cab. The Salarian driver drove like Miranda in _Normandy’s_ shuttle, getting her to the Presidium in record time. She gave him a hefty tip.

Anderson was sitting at his desk when Shepard entered. If he was surprised, he hid it well. He _had_ become more of a diplomat.

“Rumor has it you took your ship through the Omega-4 Relay, Shepard,” he said, his lips twitching as he suppressed a smile.

“Jealous, Councilor?” she asked, shaking his hand.

“Perhaps a little,” he laughed. “Sit. You here on business or pleasure?”

“Both, if we can manage to relax at all. You have to have gotten a report from Traffic Control that the _Normandy_ arrived a few BTUs short of a thermal clip,” she said, putting an arm up on the back of her chair.

Anderson nodded. “She’s in bad shape. What happened?”

“The Collectors were building a Reaper, one based on human genetic material. We destroyed them both.”

His expression unchanged, Anderson steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “So that’s what they were up to. Any survivors?”

“Not many.” Shepard looked down. Only the crew of the _Normandy_ had been intact enough to rescue, and not even all of them made it. “What?” she asked, realizing that Anderson had asked her something.

“Could you not have disabled the Reaper and retained it for study?”

Shepard bristled. “Too much risk. We don’t know enough about the Reapers to be sure that one is completely deactivated...unless it’s in thousands of pieces, of course. Even a derelict Reaper can still indoctrinate. Cerberus wanted us to keep it, but—”

“Thankfully didn’t turn it over to Cerberus,” said Anderson, his face hardening, “but the Alliance could have put together a science team to study it.”

“And then use Reaper tech to beat the Batarians when it finally comes to war in the Verge?” Shepard snarled. “No. We need to know how to beat the Reapers not become like them.”

Anderson gave her a dark look. “The Alliance is _not_ a terrorist organization. New tech acquired by the Council is used by all the species. Cerberus might have used it to advance their own interests, but the Council... I still don’t know what you’re doing with Cerberus, Shepard.”

“Spare me, Anderson!” she spat. “They may not have a perfectly clear record, but neither do the Alliance or the Citadel. You yourself didn’t contradict me when I said Reaper tech would get used as a weapon, even by the Council.” She stood up, pushing the chair away. “The Illusive Man wanted the same thing and I wouldn’t give it to him.”

“Had I not taken this job I would likely have agreed with you,” he said, “but now…a matter of galactic security this big requires more than just you and your crew, no matter how good you are. We could have modified our ships to be able to combat the Reapers.”

Shepard pulled out the datapad Mordin had given her and tossed it onto Anderson’s desk. “All we know so far about them. I’ve got my team working on more and Cerberus has a cell devoted to it, but this should get you started.”

Anderson flipped on the power, scanning the display. “The Council will want to know where this came from. If I tell them it’s from you, they won’t like it. After that stunt you pulled with the turian councilor…”

Shepard shrugged. “Not my problem. Use it or don’t, but the Reapers _are_ coming. If the Council and the Alliance are too wrapped up in themselves to care, it’s their asses in the end.”

“Had you brought a Reaper back with you,” he said, looking at her with hooded eyes, “the entire galaxy would have mobilized to fight them.”

“I’d believe it when I saw it,” Shepard scoffed. “The Council would probably just come up with some excuse to bury the whole thing again. At least this time they wouldn’t be able to ground my pilot and disband my crew. One of the benefits of running my own operation, even if it is funded by Cerberus.”

Anderson’s brows rose. “Joker’s in on this too? He dropped off the map after he turned in his resignation, which I signed off on myself.”

“He is,” Shepard replied, crossing her arms. “The Alliance grounded him. You _don’t_ ground Joker.”

“You do when he looked and acted like he did after you died,” Anderson said, scowling.

“What do you mean?” asked Shepard, sinking back down into a chair. “He hasn’t behaved in any way out of the ordinary since he’s been on my ship. Not even joining Cerberus seems too strange for him. He joined the Alliance to fly. Why would he stay if they wouldn’t let him helm a ship. It makes sense that he joined up with Cerberus.”

“Have you spoken to him about it?”

She shook her head. “You know how he is, Anderson. If you want to know anything, you have to pry it out of him or weed through the snark to find the truth. For better or for worse, he’s the same man.”

“I don’t think so, Shepard,” Anderson said, leaning forward. “You didn’t see him when they pulled him out of the escape pod. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him, demanding to know what the hell had knocked the _Normandy_ out of the sky. We tried to calm him down and get him to report, but as soon as your name was mentioned, he locked up. Wouldn’t say a damn thing to anyone, not even your crew.

“Shepard, no one could get through to him. He was put on probation and given an apartment on the Citadel while the Alliance tried to get him to talk. It took us three months to get him to give us a coherent report of what had happened to you. By then, he had seen the Council bury your records of the Reapers and the Alliance hold a service for you. Joker didn’t attend because he spent that night laid up in the veteran’s med clinic with alcohol poisoning. It wasn’t the first time he had been there.”

Anderson folded his hands on his desk, sighing. “There was no way he could have flown in that state. The Alliance refused to give him another posting until he got himself together and passed his psych examinations. He refused to do either until the Alliance took the Reaper threat seriously.

“He resigned not long after that,” said Anderson. “I have it on good authority that he intended to work as a shipping pilot, but he never showed up for work and was replaced. I can only image that Cerberus got a hold of him around that time.”

“He never told me what they had him doing before he was assigned to my crew,” Shepard said, calling up the memories from the first few days of her “new” life.

* * *

 

_The Illusive Man took a drag from his cigarette. “I found a pilot I think you might like,” he said, a smile barely suppressed. “I hear he’s one of the best.”_

_Shepard tried not to smile in return. She had no reason to trust him or his organization, but she had to admit that he had a certain humor that could put her at ease._

_His smile grew as he seemingly read her thoughts. He said, “Someone you can trust,” and broke the connection._

_The communication grid started to descend. Shepard tried not hit something in frustration. She was in charge of the mission, that much was clear, but she didn’t even know which way to go to get to the bathroom let alone find her ship and its supposedly trustworthy pilot._

_From behind her, she heard, “Hey, Commander.”_

_The voice, the first one she recognized since waking up in the Lazarus station, sent her heart up into her throat, stopping her breathing._

_He was standing in the hallway just a few paces from her, dressed in a standard issue Cerberus uniform. “Just like old times, huh?” he said, tugging at the brim of his hat._

_She jogged down, ready to pull him into an embrace, but she stopped short. Even if Cerberus did not have regs like the Alliance, a career solider didn’t just forget them overnight. She offered her hand instead. As he took it, her throat loosened and she took a deep breath. “Joker, what the hell are you doing?_ Cerberus _?”_

“ _You’re one to talk, Commander,” he said, tapping the insignia above her left breast._

“ _I guess you’re right,” she said, looking down at her uniform. It fit like any other she had ever worn._

“ _It’s good to see you up and about,” Joker said. “The hospital gown and IVs didn’t seem like your style.”_

_Shepard found herself smiling. Joker’s voice, his snark, relieved some of the tension she had been carrying, as it had since she had met him on the bridge of the SR-1. “You have no idea how good it is to see to you,” she said, but quickly added, “and to hear your bullshit.”_

_He blinked, started to say something, but changed his mind and said, “I don’t know, Commander, you got to nap through two years. Didn’t have to deal with the brass.” He sounded surprisingly spiteful. “They—ah, never mind. You haven’t changed a damn bit, Shepard.”_

_She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I’m not so sure about that.”_

“ _What are a few cybernetics in the long run?” he asked, shrugging. “Hell, Cerberus gave me a little something, too.” He pulled up the cuffs of his pants to expose his brace-free calves. “I’m not cured, but it’s easier to get around.”_

_Shepard suppressed a smile at the sight of his pale legs covered in curly, brown hair. “I’ll have to remember to put that on my list of things to thank them for…in some way. Can’t really buy the Illusive Man a drink when he’s holed up in some base somewhere and never shows up in the flesh.”_

“ _Oh, before you send him a gift basket, you have to see this. Come on.” Joker started up the ramp behind him, his strides more confident._

“ _You learning to tango on those new pegs, Flight Lieutenant?”_

“ _Ha ha. Laugh it up, Shepard,” he said, wry. “And I’m just Helmsman Moreau now.”_

_She frowned. “You really trust the Illusive Man?”_

“ _Well,” he grumbled, “I don’t trust anyone who makes more than I do. But…they aren’t all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly. And there’s this.” He gestured to the windows they were approaching. “They only told me last night.”_

_Shepard looked out, taking in the glistening ship below._

“ _It’s good to be home, huh, Commander?” Joker asked, glancing at her._

Home. _The_ Normandy had _been her home, more so than any of the ships she had lived on as a child. The SR-2 was bigger and emblazoned with Cerberus’s insignia, but her heart swelled when as she looked her. “I guess we’ll have to give her a name,” she said to Joker. She couldn’t imagine anyone else flying her, either._

“ _Miranda says she’ll be ready by tomorrow morning, name and all,” he replied. “Unless you wanted to call her_ Betty _, of course.”_

“ _The triumphant_ Betty _sails out to stop the Collectors,” Shepard laughed. “No, she’ll be_ Normandy _or I won’t step aboard.”_

“ _Thought so,” Joker said, nodding. “Well, you interested in something to eat, Commander? It’s that special time of day down in the mess.”_

_Shepard touched her hand to her stomach, which rumbled. “Food. Yeah, I forgot about that.”_

“ _No change there, Shepard. Someone always used to have to remind you to eat on the old_ Normandy _.”_

“ _Strange to hear you call it that,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s going to be…interesting trying to get used to a new ship, even if she does look similar.”_

“ _Once we get her out, she’ll fly smoother than ever, Commander,” Joker said, smiling._

“ _I hope you’re right,” she sighed as they walked together toward the mess._

* * *

 

They had been left to themselves in the mess hall, though Jacob Taylor had glanced their way a few times. Joker had not asked her anything about her memories of dying, of which she had very few. Instead, they critiqued the station they were on and Shepard recounted the details of her trip to Freedom’s Progress.

“Consider asking him,” said Anderson, touching her arm. “He went through something truly awful after you died, Shepard.”

She nodded, wanting to ask him, but knowing that she would not. Prying into Joker’s personal history was a step too far for his commanding officer, even if Cerberus did not have strict regulations like the Alliance. As her mother had always advised her, Shepard kept her personal interests off her ship. Only once had she slipped, and she blamed Miranda, who had neglected to tell her about the monitoring equipment in the sleeping pod Shepard had been assigned.

* * *

 

“ _Lay off the grease, all right, Joker?” she said, doing her best not to laugh at yet another one of the pilot’s plans to inhibit EDI’s monitoring capabilities in the cockpit._

“ _Yeah, yeah, Commander,” he replied, grinning at her._

_She felt her stomach drop, a kick of arousal. She took a deep breath and turned her thoughts to the mission. Thankfully, her Omni-tool beeped; Joker turned back to his console._

“ _Shepard here.”_

“ _Commander,” said Miranda, “would you mind coming down to my office? There are a few things I’d like to go over with you.”_

“ _Sure,” she replied. “I’ll be right there.”_

“ _Sounds like Mom’s mad,” Joker teased. “What did you do this time?”_

_Shepard rolled her eyes. “Hell if I know. Though I’ll make sure to give you a shout if we’re going to have a biotic wrestling match to settle it.”_

“ _Can it be naked mud wrestling instead?” he asked. “Pretty please?”_

_Shepard shook her head at him as she started aft._

“ _Bringing enough mud onto the ship to make such a spectacle possible, Mr. Moreau,” she heard EDI saying, “would take more time and effort than our mission allows.”_

“ _We can’t just mine some?” he retorted. “We have enough time for that on this oh-so-time-critical mission.”_

_Shepard boarded the elevator, passing Kelly, who told her that she had more messages, and rode down to the crew deck._

“ _Hello, Commander,” said Miranda when Shepard walked in._

“ _Operative Lawson. What can I do for you?”_

_Miranda produced a translucent orange clipboard from a drawer. “We did a brief evaluation of your mental state en route to Freedom’s Progress, but I’d like to conduct a more thorough one now.”_

“ _I feel the same,” Shepard said, frowning. “I’ve performed to your specifications so far, right? What’s the need for more questions? I have things to take care of.”_

“ _I understand that, Commander, but the Lazarus Project is one of the most advanced biological and cybernetic endeavors ever conducted. I will be publishing some my research. I_ _need descriptive notes outlining all the stages of the project.”_

“ _In other words, I could have won you the science fair?” Shepard asked._

“ _That’s an accurate metaphor,” Miranda replied. She picked up a perfectly sharpened pencil. “Shall we get this done as quickly as possible so you can get back to your own projects?”_

“ _Yeah, I guess so.”_

“ _Well, you already told me you feel physically the same. No adverse effects from the cybernetics?”_

“ _Nothing adverse, no,” she said. “Fighting is effortless now. My heart rate stays low, my muscles tire less quickly… I assume I have your upgrades to thank for that?”_

_Miranda nodded, not looking up from the notes she was furiously scribbling. “Dr. Chakwas has explained how your scars will heal?_

“ _If I’m nice, they go away. If I’m naughty, they get nastier. Not rocket science, Miranda.”_

“ _I assume you don’t have a clear memory of your death, Commander?”_

“ _No. Also your work?”_

“ _Unfortunately no. The Illusive Man did not want your consciousness altered at all. The memory loss is something your body did itself.” She flipped to another page on her clipboard. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”_

“ _No,” Shepard sighed. “A healthy appetite, too. Are we done yet?”_

_Miranda shot her a glare. “How do you feel about your parents?”_

_“How much do they know?”_

_“They were both given official notifications of your death by the Alliance. Councilor Andersen and Admiral Hackett delivered them themselves.”_

_Shepard ran a hand over her neatly knotted hair. “I guess calling them wouldn’t be the best idea, then. A little too shocking to hear from your dead daughter while you’re shipped out.”_

_“According to both of their Alliance psych evaluations,” Miranda interrupted, flipping through pages, “both of them are fully capable of handling sudden, stressful events. If you wish to call them, you may.”_

_“No,” said Shepard, shaking her head. “I want to see them in person.”_

_“Not possible at the moment, Commander.”_

_Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Why do you keep calling me that? If I was officially dead, I’m no longer an enlisted soldier.”_

_Miranda smiled. “As_ Helmsman _Moreau might have explained to you, though Cerberus doesn’t use the exact same system of rank as the Alliance, our titles are remarkably similar. As you are the highest ranking officer on a Cerberus vessel, you are called Commander.”_

 _“I rank above you?” she asked, surprised. “I didn’t think the Illusive Man would trust me_ that _much.”_

_“Had the Illusive Man wanted to put me in charge of stopping the Collectors, he would have done it,” Miranda replied, lifting her chin slightly. “He has reason to believe that you are the only person who can get it done. If you were forced to defer to me, you wouldn’t be in control and that, according to the Illusive Man, would cause our mission to fail.”_

_Shepard leaned closer to Miranda, resting on her elbows. “Do you think I’m the only one who can do it? Off the books.”_

_“After what you did on the station and Freedom’s Progress, Shepard,” she said with a sigh, “I’m starting to think so.”_

_Shepard nodded, backing off._

_“Anyway,” Miranda said, “about your parents…you’ll be able to visit them later. The_ Normandy _is completely under your command. She goes where you want her to go.”_

_“The mission comes first,” Shepard said, “but this is not something I want them to hear about second hand.”_

_Miranda didn’t look convinced, but she said, “You’re in charge, Commander.”_

_“What other kinds of questions have you got for me?”_

_“Just a couple of other things,” she muttered, glancing at the clipboard. “Honestly, Shepard, all of your responses so far have matched up with your Alliance psych profile. As far as I can tell, I did a damn good job putting you back together just as you were.”_

_Shepard barked a laugh. “Good to hear, I guess.”_

_“How do you feel sexually?”_

_“What?” Shepard exclaimed._

_A snide grin spread across Miranda’s lips. “Come on, Commander, we’re both adults here. And I’ve seen everything you have to offer from the inside out.”_

_Shepard gave a disgruntled_ hmph, _crossing her arms over her chest. “I haven’t really had a lot of time to think about it since I woke up. You and the Illusive Man have been keeping me on a tight schedule.”_

_“My records indicate differently,” said Miranda, sliding a chart across the table. “The sleeping pod you stay in on Beta Station recorded your vitals and brain activity throughout the night.”_

_Shepard looked over the peaks and valleys of the brainwave chart. “And?”_

_“You clearly went through a number of periods of emotional distress as you were falling asleep and during REM. You were processing the reality of your death and the news that you could not turn to your old team, your friends, for help on this mission…things that understandably upset you.” She leaned across the table and pointed to a particular peak on the chart. “At 23:17 you experienced a spike in dopamine levels and increased brain activity in the_ _left anterior cingulate cortex and right insula, indicating sexual arousal._

_“Your Alliance records don’t note that you ever fraternized with a fellow soldier on a deployment, but they don’t cover your Spectre record. Right before your dopamine levels spiked, you were thinking about your team. I can only assume you were involved with one of them, or, at the very least, interested.”_

_“And if I was?” Shepard asked, shrugging. “Why is that important to this mission?”_

_“You’re a resilient woman, Commander, but emotional attachments can effect performance.” Miranda leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Not necessarily for the worst.”_

_“I heard the speech on fraternization back in basic, Miranda, and I grew up on either my mother’s ship or my father’s, never both at the same time. I saw firsthand want happens when the you get involved with someone on your boat: you lose a good soldier when he gets transferred.”_

_“It can’t have been all business, though, Commander,” Miranda continued. “Your brain patterns—”_

_“Yeah, I know,” Shepard snapped. “There’s someone who gets my what-not-cortex going, sure, but it’s not something that will get in the way of the mission.”_

_“Understood, Shepard,” said Miranda as she scribbled down some notes._

_Shepard frowned. “What’s your hypothesis, Operative Lawson? You wouldn’t have specified that it was someone from my old team if you didn’t have a decent guess. Did you get Joker to tell you about the pass Liara took at me? Or Kaiden?”_

_“I did not discuss your personal life with Joker,” Miranda said, looking up from her notes. “I certainly couldn’t trust any information coming from him to be anything more than scuttlebutt.”_

_“He does have a mouth on him,” Shepard said, grinning._

_Miranda’s brows knit and then relaxed as she turned back to her notes. “Seems you’re quite of fond him.”_

_Shepard gave her a look. “I am. Are we done here?”_

_“Absolutely. Thank you for coming, Commander.”_

_Shepard made for the door, stopping just as she was about to go out. She turned back. “Miranda.”_

_She looked up from her desk._

_“I won’t get involved, but you can’t expect me not to think about it once and a while…when I have a little time to myself. You did put me back together like I used to be after all.”_

_Miranda nodded. “No worries, Commander, your bed on the_ Normandy _is free of monitoring equipment.”_

_“Good,” Shepard said, striding out. “Otherwise you’d be getting readings that you might not care to have.”_

_Just before the door closed, she heard Miranda sigh, “You’re not the only one who hasn’t gotten any in two years.”_

* * *

“I’ll say hi to Joker for you,” Shepard told Anderson, earning her a smile from him.

“I’ll give this data to Command _and_ offer it to the Council,” he said. “Thank you for this, Shepard.”

She nodded. “If we survive this, I hope to see you again.”

“Take care,” he said to her back as she strode out.

“Anderson,” she said, turning back. “If you can find someone to replace you anytime soon, do it. This job is turning you into an asshole bureaucrat.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “You gave me the job.”

She shrugged and went out.


	4. Chapter 4

_“She had small moons peeking out of that dress,” Zaeed growled, “but then there was her face.  Poor kid, looked worse than a drowned salarian.  Well, when I woke up the next morning, the first thing I saw were those perfect orbs.  And then…”  He trailed off, shaking his head.  “Was_ too _drunk.  Too drunk…”_

 _“Get enough wine in me,” Kasumi admitted, looking down at the liquid in her glass, “and even_ Joker _starts to look handsome.”_

_“Hey!” he cried.  “I can pick up a women twice as…law-abiding as you, Goto.”_

_“Do tell,” she replied, topping off his glass of gin._

_Joker cracked his knuckles.  “Well, I was just out of flight school and cocky as hell.”_

_“More so than now?”_

_He flashed her a smile.  “Absolutely. So, a couple of buddies and me were at Flux shooting the shit when this blond_ sashays _in.”  He slid off his bar stool and demonstrated.  “Hot little body and hardly any dress to cover it.”_

_Kasumi rolled her eyes.  Zaeed laughed._

_“She comes up the bar,” Joker continued, “and orders some little cocktail.  I slide over since there’s only a half a meter between us and make some comment about the umbrella.  Blah, blah, blah.  She laughs and tells me about the collection of them she has up in her office.  Turns out she’s a diplomatic secretary for the Human Affairs Office.”_

_“I bet she made quite the liaison,” said Zaeed, earning him a punch on the shoulder from Kasumi._

_Joker grinned.  “I don’t dance, so we hung out at the bar and talked for a while.  My buddies finally got over the fact that she had picked me and went off the play the slots.  I went home with the prize, though.”_

_“Where’s Jacob when you need him?” Kasumi said, sighing slightly._

_“Your secretary sounds like a bombshell, flyboy,” Zaeed muttered. “I’m impressed.”_

_“You’ve got a have a couple of other good stories about knockin’ boots with your fellow sailors, right?” Kasumi asked Joker.  “Stealing a few minutes in the cargo bay like in all those Alliance-themed romance novels.”_

_He shook his head.  “Nah.  Regs.  It’s too bad, though.  I’ve worked with some pretty faces.”  He cursed under his breath as an image of Shepard grinning down at him from behind his chair in the cockpit appeared in his mind’s eye._   Three, _he thought to himself, displeased. Changing the subject, he teased, “Hey, Goto, I remember the promise of a story about a threesome you and your boyfriend had with an asari dancer.”_

_“Oh, that,” Kasumi said, smiling.  “Let me pull up Keiji’s memories…”_

* * *

Joker laughed to himself, remembering that night as he toweled off after getting out of the shower.  Kasumi certainly knew how to keep up with Zaeed’s list of conquests, though she had since added Jacob to her list and, as far as Joker knew, Zaeed still spent his nights cleaning his rifles.

He himself didn’t have quite the record the mercenary boasted, though he was just a little over half Zaeed’s age and had time on his side.  _And charm_ , he thought, flashing himself a smile in the mirror.

Most of the crew had already followed Shepard ashore, but he decided to wait a while before venturing out into Zakera Ward.  He talked with Dr. Chakwas for a bit before she set off to purchase new medical supplies and then read for a bit before going to take a shower.  

Walking from the bathroom to the empty crew’s quarters, his towel tied around his waist, he grinned and up the display on his Omni-tool.

“2130.  I can’t wait,” read the message he had received just a few minutes after he had sent it.  Rhea, the diplomatic secretary he had bragged about to Zaeed and Kasumi, was going to get a drink with him after all.  In flight school, he had learned to subdue his body on mission, but once shore leave was announced, all bets were off.  Having a girl to visit when he come into port meant blessed relief.

Joker stooped to unlatch his rarely touched footlocker, planting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the things inside.  The few casual things he owned were not too different from his uniform, he realized with a certain measure of discontent.  Folded tee shirts, some with fading prints, lay atop two pairs of blue jeans.  The suit Liara had bought him for Shepard’s funeral, which he did not end up getting to, was at the very bottom alongside his SR-1 hat.

He pulled on the least beat up pair of jeans and selected a shirt, a nice one; it had a V-neck.  He was putting a pair of socks on when Yeoman Chambers floated in.

“Hey, Cham—whoa!  What kind of personal business are you taking care of while you’re in port?”

Kelly beamed at him as she stepped in front of the full-length mirror she had hung on the wall next to her bunk.  “An old friend from my university days.  We used to go together.”  She was wearing a napkin-sized dress that had to be made of pink tissue paper.  It was held up by a tie around her neck so thin it looked like dental floss.

“Oh yeah?” Joker prompted, pulling on his boots with a flourish.  “Do tell.”

“In your dreams, Moreau,” she giggled as she dropped her lipstick into a tiny handbag and strutted past him.

 “Use protection!” he called after her.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Shaking his head, he took up Kelly’s post and gave himself a once-over.  He fiddled a bit with his hair, shrugged, and pulled on the baseball cap he wore off duty.

“Going ashore?” EDI asked as he approached the airlock.

“Hell, yes,” he replied, giving the AI’s camera a roguish grin.  “Can you manage here without me?”

“I’ll try not to short Legion’s circuits as I weep on its shoulder,” she said, releasing the door.  “Enjoy yourself, Jeff.”

He rolled his eyes and took a step forward.  “Oh, hey, EDI, is the Commander still ashore?”

“She came back an hour and twelve minutes ago, but she departed again with Yeoman Chambers.”

“What!” Joker exclaimed.  “Chambers said she was meeting a friend from college!”

EDI’s hologram blinked at him.  “Shepard didn’t exactly disclose the nature of their outing, but the Yeoman suggested aloud that she was going to, and I quote, ‘ _love_ Roger and Dr. Martinez.’”

“Chambers is setting the Commander up?” he laughed.  “Come on, EDI, you’ve got to be joking.  Shepard’s the savior of the galaxy.  She could walk into a bar, announce her name, and have men—and everything in between—lined up around the corner to get under her armor.”  He tried to ignore the part of his conscious that reminded him that he would happily join that line.

“Perhaps she’s looking for something more than a tryst, Mr. Moreau.”

“Hmph,” he sniffed contemptuously.

“Plus, Shepard was not wearing her armor when she disembarked.”

Joker crossed his arms over his chest.  “Now that’s a first.  Did she at least have a pistol?”

“In a thigh holster under her skirt.”

“Skirt?  You’re making this up to screw with me, EDI.”  He gave her a dismissive wave.  “I’m out of here.”

Just before the airlock door slid shut, he heard her say, “Use protection.”

He arrived at DarkStar a few minutes early, so he ordered a bottle of asari rum, ice, and a couple of glasses sent to a table near the bar.  He bypassed the shadowy back booths; Rhea’s apartment wasn’t too far if things got going.

DarkStar was a shadier than Flux had been, but certainly a number of steps up from Chora’s Den.  Shepard had said that the Embassy Lounge served a mean cocktail, but only diplomats and other bureaucrats were allowed up on the Presidium.  Rhea worked up there, of course, but she lived down in the Wards.

“Hey, soldier,” she said, sidling up to the table.

“Greetings and salivations, Secretary Thomas,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hand.

She cocked a brow.  “Salivations?”

“You _are_ looking delicious,” he replied, grinning.

“Already making me blush, Jeff,” she teased.  Her cheeks were turning pink as she went to sit down.

He raised her hand above their heads.  “Can I get a little twirl?”  She obliged, showing off the scanty black dress she sported.  It was slightly more substantial than Kelly’s had been, with full sleeves and all, but it clung to Rhea’s curves where Kelly’s napkin had fluttered.  A long V was cut down the front and back, ending at the hips and covering only what was necessary.  The hem hovered at mid-thigh.

Jeff looked her over as he pulled out her chair for her, already feeling the rush of blood toward his loins.  He sat quickly.  “Glad to hear you were free.”

“I had planned to go to the movies with some friends, but they understood,” she said, sipping at the rum.

“I’m flattered,” he said.  Rhea could have done a hell of a lot better than him.  “No boyfriend that’s going to beat me up tomorrow morning?”

She shook her head.  “I broke up with the last one four months ago.  Had to have someone to replace you after you shipped out.”

“It’s been a long tour,” he sighed, drinking deeply.

“Over a year now,” Rhea said, leaning on her hand.  “And you hardly gave me any notice.”

He knew she was teasing him, but he still felt bad.  They had been seeing each other fairly frequently while he waited to ship out as pilot of a freighter for the private company he had hooked up with after handing in his resignation to Alliance Command.

A couple of mornings before he was supposed to report for duty, the beeping of his Omni-tool woke him up at 0856.  The message was from an anonymous sender and it read, simply: “We have a better job for you.  Zakera Docks 0920.”  He had almost rolled over and gone back to sleep, but then he noticed something hanging from the lamp on his bedside table.  The name printed on the metal caught a flash of light from the artificial sunlight drifting in through the windows.

He had packed up his single bag of belongings, sent a note to the shipping company to call his backup, and left the hotel.  The message he had sent to Rhea wasn’t detailed, but it told her about a better offer he had received from another company and that he had to leave.

“I wish I could have said goodbye to you properly,” he said, taking her hand, “but it was a _good_ offer…with a limited window.”  He had had no idea what he was getting into, but it hadn’t mattered.  Shepard would have been wearing her identity tags when she died, but there they were, hanging from his lamp.  He still had them tucked up into the lining of his SR-1 cap.

“ _Tsk_ ,” Rhea scolded.  “You know you don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jeff.”

“Tell me how you’ve been,” he said, quickly changing the subject.  He refilled her glass.

She brightened.  “Well, things at Human Affairs have been _crazy_!  The incidents with all those colonies left us with more paperwork than you could imagine.  Did you hear about that while you were out?”

Joker suppressed a grimace.  “Caught wind of it.  Pretty rough stuff.”

“Terrible, and most of the those colonists haven’t been accounted for.  Well, anyway, it was a mess.  The other secretaries and I put in ten hours of overtime every week for three months.”

Joker tried his best to looked exhausted.  “Ten hours!  You should try flying.  I’m lucky if I get ten hours of good sleep a week.”

Rhea looked duly scandalized.  “Isn’t there someone to spell you?”

“Well, EDI takes over when I doze off, but she’s no good with the tight spots,” he replied, put his hands behind his head and stretching back.  “The ship needs a special touch, especially under the Commander.”

“I thought you were out of the Alliance,” said Rhea, her brows knitting.

“Oh…um, yeah, I am,” he fumbled, “but the captain on this run was ex-Alliance, too.  Still goes by her old title, you know.”  Fortunately, he hadn’t used her name.

“I see…”  She gave him a disbelieving look, but shrugged.  “So, how long are you going to be around this time?”

“Just a couple of days,” Joker said, swirling the ice around in his glass.  “We just need to do some repairs and then we’re off again.”

Rhea took the glass from him, refreshed the ice, and filled it with rum.  “Anywhere exciting?”

“Hopefully not as exciting as our last run,” he laughed, taking the glass.  “Thanks.  We might be settling down on Omega for a while so we can gather some intel.”

“‘Intel,’ ‘commander’…sure sounds like the Alliance to me,” she said, smirking.  “Unless you’re running with mercs.”

“Garrus would kick my ass from here to the Terminus and back before he’d let me join up with mercs,” Joker laughed.

“Who’s that?” Rhea asked, sipping from the straw in her drink.

Joker swallowed an ice cube as he felt her hand brush his upper thigh.  “Uh, just an old friend.  A turian, actually.”

“There was a turian C-Sec officer named Garrus who used to come through the office on patrol back when I first started,” she said, her fingers circling the clasp of Joker’s belt.  “Back then I was still young and stupid, so I flirted with him.  I thought it would be an adventure to mess around with another species.  He was never really interested, though.”  She met Joker’s eyes, hers burning.  “Are you?”

“Ready to get out of here if you are,” he replied.  The rum started buzzing around in his head as he stood up and offered his arm to Rhea.  She stepped close to him, smiling.

“Well, hello there,” said a familiar voice as they were passing the bar.

Joker turned to see Kelly, holding a martini and flanked by two towering men in suits.  He tried to give her a look that screamed “Piss off!” but a sly smile touched her lips.

“Jeff, come meet Gaspar and Roger,” she chimed.  “And who’s your friend?”

Rhea instantly lit up; she loved to be noticed.

 _It probably burned her up when Garrus shut her down_ , Joker thought, amused.  He would have to ask him about it later.

“Come on,” Rhea whispered, leading him over.  “My bed will still be there in ten minutes.”

Joker shuffled over and reluctantly shook hands with the massive, blond-haired Dr. Roger O’Toole and the designer-suited Dr. Gaspar Martinez.

“Rhea Thomas,” he said, gesturing between her and Kelly.  “Chambers.”

“I assume you have a first name, too,” Rhea said, turning on her charm as she extended her hand.

“Kelly,” she said, hanging onto Rhea’s hand longer than she needed to.  “Would you two like to have a drink with us?”

“Maybe another time—” Joker started to say, but the words stuck in his throat.

“What’d I miss?” asked Shepard as she appeared from the crowd.  “The line in the bathroom was—Joker.”

Her eyes, which had just gone wide with surprise, were rimmed with eyeliner, shimmering shadow, and mascara.  The red lipstick she wore was only a shade or two darker than her dress, which was tight, short, and zipped up the front from hem to bust.  The only thing on her that Joker might ever have imagined her wearing were the black, flat slip-ons.

“Commander,” he managed to say.

She tucked her hair—unbound it brushed the tops of her breasts—behind her ears.  “You’re wearing a different hat.”

He looked up at the brim and then back at her.  “Your hair is long.”

“Shepard,” Kelly interjected, “this is Jeff’s friend Rhea Thomas.”

The Commander seemed to wake up.  “Nice to meet you, Rhea.  Any friend of Joker’s is welcome at my chunk of the bar.”

Rhea smiled half-heartedly.  It took him a moment, but Joker realized that she was intimidated.  Even in a skimpy dress, Shepard was something to behold.  She still carried herself like a solider, unlike Kelly, who was all curves and seduction.  Rhea, who was well aware of her beauty and used it to her best advantage, knew one of her own kind when she saw her; Kelly wasn’t a potential rival.  Shepard, on the other hand, had a decent idea that she looked good, but didn’t seem to understand that her aggressive confidence might come off as a challenge.

She had called it _her_ part of the bar.  Joker tried not to cringe.  She had declared control of the situation.  That was nothing new, of course, but the bar was not the battlefield.  Rhea was already bound to be forming ideas about his relationship with Shepard that were far from the truth.

“Thanks for the offer, Commander,” he said, “but we’re headed out.”

“Too bad,” she said, picking up her glass.  “Have a good night.”

Joker hurriedly steered Rhea out of the club and into the passageway.  He took a deep breath of cooler station air.  “I get off the ship for a break and whole damn crew follows me,” he grumbled.  “There _are_ other clubs on this station.”

Rhea chuckled.  “So, you’re flying with Commander _Shepard_?  You could have mentioned it.  And what was that she called you?”

“Just a nickname,” he replied, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair.  “I wouldn’t have recognized her in that getup if she hadn’t been with Chambers.”

“Funny,” Rhea said, not looking at him, “it seemed like you were the first one to notice her.”

“I’ve seen a lot of her,” he said without thinking about it.

“I bet you have,” Rhea snapped.  “Look, Jeff—”

He grabbed her hand.  “Rhea, stop.  If I didn’t want to be here with you, I wouldn’t have asked you to meet me.  Shepard and I…we’ve never been more than coworkers.”

Rhea’s face softened.  “I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.  “The way you looked at her…I just got a little jealous.  I only get to see you occasionally and I wasn’t about to have my night ruined.”  She batted her eyelashes.  “Plus, I thought a Marine girl would be more butch.  She’s actually pretty.”

Joker kissed her to keep himself from coming to Shepard’s defense.  Of course she was pretty!

Rhea was rubbing her breasts against his chest as she slipped her tongue into his mouth.  Shepard dropped from his mind.

“Let’s get to your place.”

* * *

“Fascinating,” Shepard said to Dr. Martinez, though she wasn’t listening.  She was leaning against the bar in DarkStar, playing with the swizzle stick in her drink.

“Perhaps you’d like to come up and see some of the findings?” Martinez asked, suggesting far more with the look he was giving her.

Shepard had been waiting for the invitation all night.  “He’s a low-key kind of guy,” Kelly had told her before Shepard had agreed to come out.  “He won’t kiss and tell.  And he put himself through medical school by dancing on ladies’ night at Chora’s Den.”

“Sounds great,” she said, giving him a smile.

She probably won’t have let Kelly drag her out had she not had been slapped in the face with hormones as soon as the mission was over.  Her mind had been on the Collectors since she woke up in a Cerberus lab, but her body pitched a fit as soon as the _Normandy_ sailed back into Citadel space.

Thinking of the ship brought Joker to mind.  She frowned at Dr. Martinez’s back as she followed him out of the bar.  Kelly and Dr. O’Toole waved as they left, giving them knowing smiles.

Shepard had squeezed into one of Kelly’s dresses with the intention of sleeping with someone she would never see again.  Though EDI had given her a host of compliments on her outfit, Shepard hadn’t seen anyone else on her way out of the _Normandy_.  Most of the crew had already disembarked when Kelly, in her flowing dress and delicate high heels, had met her at the elevator.

“You look phenomenal, Commander,” she said, winking.  “I’d insist we stay here if you’d allow it.”

Shepard shook her head.  “Flattered, as always, Kelly, but this is an itch you couldn’t scratch.”

“Understood completely, Shepard,” Chambers laughed.

She had certainly not been expecting to run into any of the other members of the crew, especially Joker.  Though she had never seen him out of his uniform before, she knew him immediately.  He wasn’t as muscular as Jacob, but he filled out the white, printed t-shirt he wore.  His jeans were well-cut, even if they were an old style from Earth.  He had been wearing a faded green hat with a fraying brim.  His hair was probably as wild as ever underneath it.

She winced, recalling what she said to him.  Hopefully it had been awkward enough to keep him from noticing her dress.  Kelly was a good two inches shorter than her and it was a size too small.

The passages around DarkStar were almost empty when she and Dr. Martinez stepped out from the bar.  “I’ll call a cab,” he said, going over to the transit station.

Shepard, her arm hooked around his, followed.  Gaspar wore some band of expensive cologne, which smelled wonderful.  He really was beautifully made.  Moved like a predator, but was soft-spoken and courteous.  No wonder he had paid for medical school with tips from Chora’s Den; no need to work a minimum wage job when you can make a killing doing strip shows.

 _He’d be better paired with that girl Joker was with_ , she thought.  Rhea was beautiful, and certainly busty, as her dress advertised.  Shepard wasn’t surprised that Joker had a shore leave girl, but she hadn’t expected one who had a body like a Fornax centerfold and the sweet face of the girl next door.  _Then again, look at what I’m going home with._

Gaspar held the cab door open for her as she clamored in.

“It’s a short ride, I promise,” he said, lacing his fingers with hers.

She pressed her thigh up against his, feeling her stomach flip slightly.

He caressed her face with his free hand.  “You are such a lovely woman, strong and seductive without being overt.”  He whispered in her ear, “I was hoping from the moment I saw you that you would be willing to come to my flat tonight.”

She shivered as his breath tickled the back of her neck.  “I thought you’d never ask.”

He laughed and passed the cab driver his credit chit.  “Keep the change.”

“Have a good night,” the batarian cabbie grumbled.

Gaspar lived in an upscale neighborhood in Thestra Ward.  Shepard found his apartment, after he keyed them in, to be a little clinical, but nice enough.  He likely spent most of his time at the med center anyway.

“Would you like something else to drink?” he asked as he shed his suit coat.

“No thanks,” Shepard said, coming up behind him and touching his shoulder.

He turned, smiling, and drew her into his arms.  His kiss was deep and warm.  The blood pounded in Shepard’s ears as she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his slacks.  She fumbled with the buttons, unable to get them open fast enough.  He had slightly more control as he unzipped her dress.

“It’s been a while,” she managed to say between kisses.

“More heat for me,” he replied, lifting her up and depositing her on the sofa.

* * *

“Sure you won’t stay the night?” Rhea asked, wrapped in a blanket and leaning against her doorframe.

Joker shook his head.  “Thanks, though, Rhea.  You’re a hard thing to leave.”

She smiled and reached out for a hug.  “Take care of yourself, Jeff Moreau.”

“You, too,” he said, touching her cheek.

She waved a last time and then shut the door.  Joker sighed.  They had made love three times in as many hours and it had been damn good—a hell of a lot better than his left hand and the extranet—but he wouldn’t be calling her again.  Rhea had been as sultry as ever, but between their second and third rounds, when he had been telling her about the time he had dropped the Mako at an angle that should have killed everyone inside...

“Shepard cussed a blue streak the whole way down,” he laughed.  “You should have heard some of the things she called me.”

“Were you absolutely sure the drop was safe?” Rhea asked, appraising the smattering of hair on his chest.

“There was about a thirty percent chance she, Garrus, and Wrex would end up as pancakes inside of a fiery landing vehicle, but I nailed it.  I wouldn’t have let her—” he voice caught.

“Die?” Rhea said.

Joker rubbed an hand over his forehead.  “Yeah.”

“All the reports about her going down with her ship,” she pressed, “were they true?  Did she just disappear for two years?”

“Why are we talking about this?” he asked, more sharply than he meant to.

Rhea looked down.  “You brought it up.”

“Let’s drop it,” Joker said, rolling on top of her.  “I have something better we could do…”

He sauntered away from her apartment physically satisfied, but too wound up to sleep.  Rhea had already been yawning.  She slept almost twice as much as he did.

He could have called a cab to spare his joints the trouble, but he wanted to walk.  Traffic was still fairly heavy around the Wards, even in the wee hours of the morning.  Maybe when he retired from flying, he would buy a cab and a seedy apartment and make his living that way.  If he, and everyone else in the galaxy, survived the Reaper attack, of course…

Joker sighed, thinking again about Shepard, only this time she was fighting off the Reapers in a dress and rebreather helmet.  He chuckled.  Only she could take on a fleet of sentient machines armed with just the pistol under her skirt.  He paused, trying to figure out where it actually would have fit.  That dress had hardly been there.

_Seven.  Aw, screw it._

Joker couldn’t deny that Shepard had looked incredible.  In fact, he couldn’t deny that he had, once or twice that night, closed his eyes and let himself imagine that it was her under him, her voice calling his name instead of Rhea’s, her arms around him.

“Shit,” he muttered, scratching his forehead as he recalled the night Dr. Chakwas had come to collect him from the veteran’s med clinic and take him home.  It was the same night the service had been held for Shepard.

* * *

_“They’re not going to let you fly until you give them what they want,” Dr. Chakwas said as she handed him an empty bucket.  “Sleep with that like a teddy bear.  You lose the security deposit on this flat if you vomit on the carpet.”_

_He glared drunkenly up at her from the couch.  “I won do it,” he slurred.  “Won say it.”_

_"Of course not,” she said, leaning against the arm of the sofa by his head.  “We saw what Shepard saw.  The Reapers are out there, no matter what the Council and Alliance Command say.”_

_"They never believed ‘er anyway!” Joker snarled.  He regretted it a moment later as the waves of nausea rolled around in his stomach again.  He groaned, clutching at the bucket._

_“I know that, Jeff, and because we wouldn’t agree to slander her as a liar they broke up the crew and stationed us away from each other.”_

_"You’re leaving?” he whispered, and then proceeded to void the contents of his stomach into the bucket._

_Once he was finished, Dr. Chakwas wiped his forehead with a cool cloth.  She gave him a glass of water.  “Rinse, but don’t swallow it.  You won’t be able to hold anything tonight and hardly anything tomorrow.”_

_Though his stomach was still churning, his head felt slightly clearer.  “Thanks, Doc.  For everything.”_

_“You’ve nothing to thank me for until you get your wings back.”_

_“I won’t do it.”_

_“You’re still so young,” Chakwas said.  “You’ll sacrifice your career over this?”_

_He frowned.  “Where are they shipping you that you don’t want to be?”_

_“Mars,” she sighed.  “I hate doctoring planetside.”_

_“So why do it?” he asked.  “Why not resign?  Do something worthwhile with the time we have left before the Reapers kill us all.”_

_“You sound like the Commander,” Chakwas said, smiling._

_Joker looked down, blinking back the moisture coming to his eyes.  “I miss her, Doc.  I…”_

_Chakwas stroked his hair.  “It was hard not to love her.”_

_Joker was already flushed with alcohol, but his neck turned redder._

_"Go to sleep, Jeff.  See how you feel in the morning.”_

* * *

The hangover had been hellish, but the guilt was worse.  He should have shown up to the service.  It hadn’t felt right, though.  There was no body to inter, presumably only a picture of her taken on the day she was promoted to XO of the _Normandy_.  He tried to blame it on some old Earth tradition, but a service was just empty without a body to lay to rest.

Since the day he saw her laying on the operating table as the robotic surgical arms worked on a section of her thigh, he had considered occasionally that maybe the feeling came from his gut, as though he knew she was coming back eventually even before Cerberus sent him her dogtags.  He laughed it off as he walked, though.  He had watched her fight for air as she drifted out into space.  She _had_ died, Miranda had assured him of that, but her body had not been so long in the vacuum that the experimental technology Cerberus had developed would not take.

“She likely won’t remember the trauma of death,” Miranda had told him.  “It’s something so terrible that it will likely be repressed, only occasionally expressing itself in dreams or night terrors.  We’ll have to see when she’s fully functional.”

Joker wondered if indeed Shepard suffered from bad dreams, or if Miranda had been bullshitting him and Shepard remembered everything.  He thought about asking her, but how to broach the subject was beyond him.

 _Normandy_ ’s lights were dimmed for its night cycle when he shuffled through the airlock.  He looked over at his chair, stifling a yawn.  His eyes half closed, he almost overlooked the pair of bare feet dangling over the armrest.

He approached slowly, gazing down past the headrest.  Curled up, breathing with her mouth slightly open, was Shepard.  She was still in the dress she had been wearing at the bar, her shoes neatly lined up on the footrest.  She had thrown her hair into a haphazard version of the usual knot.  She lacked the distinct reek of alcohol which usually accompanied a post-binge sleep, so he ruled out her simply stumbling back and passing out in the nearest chair.

Joker took a deep breath and laid a hand on her shoulder.  “Commander?”

She sighed and nuzzled her face against the back of his hand, but did not wake.  Well, she _had_ had a couple of drinks then.

Her breath was warm on his hand, his thumb just under her chin.  He felt a shock in his stomach.

He gave her shoulder a little shake.  “Shepard.”

“Joker?” she mumbled, her eyes still closed.  She lazily extended a hand, which found its way to his chest.  His pulse jumped again.  Shepard’s lips turned up just the slightest bit as she faintly said, “You’re hogging all the blankets.  I’m freezing.”

Joker noticed the goosebumps along her bare arms and legs.  He reached for the jacket he kept on a shelf below the flight console, swallowing heavily as he processed what she had muttered.  She thought she was in bed.  She thought _he_ was in bed _with_ her.  Apparently she’d had a few more drinks than he had originally calculated.  He laid the jacket over her.  She drew her arms and legs up under it, making contended noises.

Joker sighed and stepped back.  If she wanted to sleep in his chair, he wasn’t going to stop her.  As he was turning away, though, he felt her cool fingers brush his arm.

“Where are you?” she murmured.

He froze, letting her trace the length of his forearm.  He didn’t stop to catch her hand as it hit the armrest of the chair.  The impact woke her.  She sat up, her eyes popping open.

“Hey,” she said, half questioning.

“Hey,” Joker echoed over the thumping of his heart.

Shepard licked her lips, her eyes shifting around the cockpit.  “I’m in your chair.”

 _Thump_.  _Thump_.  _Thump_.  _Thump_.  Joker nodded.

“You’re wondering why.”

 _Thump_.  He nodded again.  _Thump_.  _Thump_.

“I’m not really sure,” she said, running a hand over her hair.  She looked down at the jacket.

“You said you were cold.”

“Well, damn.  At least I have some sense even when I’m comatose.”

“Uh…you’re welcome to the chair if you want it,” Joker managed to say.

Shepard shook her head.  “No thanks.  I don’t know how you sleep in this thing, even if it is leather.”  Unfolding her stiff limbs, she stood and settled the jacket around her shoulders.  “I’m going up to bed.”

“G’night,” Joker muttered, taking a couple steps back.

Shepard yawned against her fist as she walked past him.  She went a few paces and then turned around.  “You coming?”

Joker balked, his eyes widening.

Shepard glanced at the chair and then raised a brow.  “You prefer _that_ to your bunk?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, realizing he had completely misconstrued her meaning.  She had no recollection of what she had said in her sleep.  “Yeah.  Lead the way, Commander.”

Without a backward glance, she strode aft, leaving him to follow.  Once the elevator doors had closed, she glanced over at him.

“You seem a little off color.  Rough night?”

He shook his head.  “Not really.  You?”

“It wasn’t a gun fight, but I think I might have bruises tomorrow.”

Joker forced himself to laugh, albeit weakly.  So she went home with one of those strapping specimens Chambers had produced after all.  He frowned.

“I thought you’d be staying at your friend’s place,” he heard her say, her tone almost sharp.

He glared at her.  “I thought you were going to be playing doctor all night.  Show’s what we know.”

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the crew deck.  Joker stepped out.  “Goodnight, Commander,” he said flatly.

“Joker, I…” she started, but trailed off.  “Goodnight.”  The elevator doors slid shut.  A trail of curses followed Joker to his bunk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out (and it's fairly short). I will be getting the sixth chapter out shortly. Thanks for reading!

“Even _my_ connections haven’t turned up that much, Shepard,” Liara admitted, the holo shaking its head.  “There was a human science team about twenty years ago that was working with artifacts that seem to match descriptions of Reaper technology, but their research station was destroyed.  Councilor Anderson was involved.”

Shepard nodded as she pressed a palm against her forehead.  “He told me about it.  He and his men walked into a shitstorm of mercenaries and dead scientists.  Saren got ahold of their files, though, and we can only assume that’s how he located _Sovereign_.”  She sighed.  “So we have nothing to go on?  We should have tied a towrope to that derelict Reaper we snagged the IFF from.”

 “Must have access to Reaper technology of some kind, Dr. T’Soni,” Mordin said, walking out of the shadows of the Comm Room.  “No other way to test anti-Indoctrination measures.”

“I understand that, Dr. Solus,” Liara replied.  “I have done my best—”

“Best not good enough!” the salarian growled in a rare flash of temper.  “Must do better.”

Shepard laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Take it easy, Mordin.”

“Apologies,” he said, gesturing to Liara’s holo.  “Have been…under considerable pressure these past few days.  Forgot my courtesies.”

Liara smiled.  “I understand completely, Doctor.  I simply wish there was more I could do for you.  Did the Illusive Man give you my message about Rana Thanoptis?”

“Miranda did,” Shepard said.  “We’ll be headed to Omega soon to pick her up.  Would you mind passing to her a note for me?  I don’t trust the public comm channels, but she needs some warning.  I’m not her favorite human.”

“Absolutely, Commander,” Liara said, her mouth turning up at the memory of Virmire.  “Forward the message to me and I’ll see that she gets it.”

Shepard tapped a few lines into her Omni-tool.  “Done.  Look, Liara, Mordin _is_ right.  We need something, _anything_ to use to test the stuff he’s working on.  There has to be some Reaper relic floating around out there.  I mean, what happened to the pieces of _Sovereign_ after they cleared the Citadel?  I doubt the Council would have had them all destroyed.”

Liara rubbed her chin.  “Hmm.  That’s not a bad idea, Shepard.  Though the Council wanted to blame the whole incident on the geth, they have to retained some parts of _Sovereign_ for study.  Whatever details exist about the parts’ whereabouts must be classified at the top level of Council security,” she said, eagerness in her voice.  “It will take me a few days to track down information about it, but I will find out what I can.”

Shepard gave her holo a weak smile.  “Thanks, Liara.  Glad to see you’re enjoying your new job.”

“As I am you, Shepard,” she said, smiling in earnest.  “Take care.”

Shepard broke the connection.  “What do you think, Mordin?” she asked, turning.

“High probability of Reaper parts under Council control,” he said, “but probability of gaining access to them…significantly lower.”

“Yeah,” Shepard said.  “I guess it would be too much to ask to find out the parts are being stored in some remote and unguarded bunker.”

Mordin chuckled.  “One can only hope, Shepard.  Assume we are getting underway soon?”

Shepard checked the time on her Omni-tool.  21:19.  “I sent out a message to the crew that we’d be shipping out at 22:00.  I don’t know how many will be coming, but one way or another, we’ll be headed for Omega in forty-one minutes.”

“Good crew,” Mordin said, touching her lightly on the shoulder, “even if they are Cerberus.  If you need me, I will be in the lab.”

Shepard watched him leave, leaning against the comm terminal.  She had woken at oh-seven-hundred despite the late night and the alcohol.  Her half-cybernetic system had processed the toxins more efficiently than it would have two years ago, allowing her to avoid hangovers almost completely.

She put her hands behind her, stretching her chest and neck.  As she glanced to the left, she caught sight of the neatly folded jacket she had set down when she came below.  Reaching out, she tugged it toward her.

What was once a stiff, canvas shell was softened and worn with age.  The thick, plaid lining was faded and had been repaired—with very precise stiches—a number of times.

Shepard held the jacket to her nose, inhaling its strange mix of scents.  It was musty, like the old air on Arcturus Station, but also had a sharp, almost peppery smell.  She laid it over her arm, hoping that Joker wouldn’t be too upset at her having commandeered it for the night.

After she had said goodnight to him and gone up to her cabin, she reluctantly let the jacket slip from her shoulders.  She hung it on the back of a chair, stripped out of her dress, and took a scalding shower.

“I thought you were going to be playing doctor,” he had said to her, his eyes flashing.  His glower had surprised her.  She had looked him over, unsure what to think of his sudden fury.

As enticing as the thought of Joker being jealous of her interest in Kelly’s physician friend was, it seemed even less probable than finding the pieces of _Sovereign_ sitting out on some beach adorned with oversized paper umbrellas.

Shepard shook her head, folding the jacket again.  “EDI, where’s Joker?”

“He is prepping for departure in the cockpit, Commander.”

“Tell him I’ll be up shortly.”

“Affirmative, Shepard.”

She strode out of the Comm Room and into the empty armory.  Her heart sank a little.  Jacob’s vacant post did not bode well for the rest of the crew.

A few Cerberus operatives, including Chambers, were milling around the CIC when Shepard appeared.  Kelly waved and gave her a smile.

“It’ll run fine,” she heard Joker saying as she approached the cockpit.

“The fitness of the thrusters is not in question, Jeff,” EDI chirped.  “I am concerned about your decision to recalibrate the fuel output before we have tested them.  Changes to drive core power could result in inefficiencies that would increase fuel consumption.”

“You wasting gas, Joker?” Shepard asked.

He jumped.  “Commander, you scared the hell out of me!”

She glanced over at EDI’s hologram.  “I thought I told you to tell him I would be up, EDI.”

“I was in the process of relaying your message,” she replied, holo blinking, “but Jeff’s manipulation of the fuel calibrations was cause for concern.  I thought we could resolve the issue before you arrived, Shepard.”

She crossed her arms over her chest.  “Well, are we using unnecessary amounts of fuel?”

“The decrease in efficiency is _theoretically_ negligible,” said EDI.  “Once we disembark, we will be using point-five more units of fuel every six months.”

“And we’ll get to Omega twenty minutes sooner,” Joker added, smug.  “You never know how many people that’ll save when we’re battling the Reapers.  You’ve got to keep it in perspective, EDI.”

“Stow that, Moreau,” Shepard said, laughing.  “EDI has enough to manage without considering your ‘perspective.’”

“Actually, my higher functions, now that they are unhindered by the Cerberus blocks, could easily handle the task,” the AI said.

Shepard shrugged.  “Your decision, then.”

“So, what can I do for you, Commander?” Joker asked, turning his chair toward her.  It still stuck the slightest bit at five o’clock.

“Just wanted to check in before we head out,” she replied.  “Give this back to you.”  She held out the jacket.  “Thanks for the loan.”

“No problem,” he said, quickly taking the jacket and tucking it back into its place near his console.

Shepard considered asking him about his night, but she held back.  “I know I should probably ask Kelly this, but…how many did we lose?  You have to know by now.”

He nodded.  “Sure you want to hear this from me and not Chambers?  She puts things so nicely…”

“ _Joker_.”

“All right, all right,” he said, putting up his hands.  “We’ve got a full complement, Shepard.”

She blinked.  “What?”

“The whole crew’s back,” Joker replied, a grin spreading across his face.  “All hands accounted for.”

Shepard fell back against one of the chairs that flanked Joker’s station.  “Everyone,” she said, quiet.  Then, to Joker, “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“You should have been,” he said.  “When the Collectors took the crew, you thought of them first.  They’re with you to the end.  Just like me…and maybe Garrus.”

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “Patch me through,” she said, tugging on the hem of her uniform to rid it of imaginary wrinkles.

“To Garrus?” Joker teased.

“You know what I mean,” Shepard replied, making a face at him.

He turned back to the console and typed a command into it.  “Opening the channel now.”

“CSV _Normandy_ , this is Shepard.  I have just been informed that all hands are present and accounted for.  I have to thank you…and I have to apologize.  Even after all this crew has done, what you’ve faced without question, I still doubted that we saw eye-to-eye.  The odds are against us in this fight.  We’re even less likely to survive this time than the last, but I can’t sit by and wait for the Reapers to destroy us…and as you’ve shown me by returning to see this through, you can’t either.  Even if we can’t beat them, we’ll have tried and that’s enough for me.  You are bravest men and women I have ever had the privilege of serving with.  We’re bound for Omega to gather intel and another crewmate.  I can’t tell you how long we’ll be in port there, but you will be updated regularly.”  She turned to Joker, who grinned at her.  “All hands prepare for departure.  Shepard out.”

As soon as he closed the intercom, Joker hailed CTC.  “Traffic control, this is CSV _Normandy_ requesting clearance to disembark.”

“Copy _Normandy_ ,” replied an asari voice from the other end.  “You are cleared.  Docking clamps released.  Have a safe flight.”

“That’s the only thing I can rely on to be safe on this mission,” Joker muttered.  He almost jumped again when he felt Shepard’s hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, too,” she said as she strode aft.


	6. Chapter 6

“Kasumi has…the queen of spades,” Joker narrated as the thief laid down a card in the center of the table.  “Nice, but Jack has…oh, nothing.”  She made a face at him as she put down a ten of diamonds.

Samara looked over her hand a last time, once at Kasumi, and then played a club.  “I can only hope Mr. Moreau does not have any more trump cards,” she said, dignified as ever.

“Hate to disappoint you, but...” Joker said as he slapped down the jack of clubs, “left bower.”

“Yes!” Jack cried.  “Point for us.  We win.”

“Again,” Kasumi grumbled.  “Why can’t we just play poker like any _other_ band of ragtag spacers?”

“Poker is forbidden on this ship,” Joker replied.  “Especially after Shepard cost me five hundred credits.  Unless you want to owe her too, I would get used to euchre.”

They had arrived at Omega three days before.  Shepard had gone immediately to Afterlife to pay her respects to Aria and Patriarch, and to enlist them in her search for Reaper parts.  So far, they had turned up about as much as Liara, which was nothing.  At least they hadn’t laughed in Shepard’s face when she mentioned the Reapers, as anyone on the Citadel would have done.

The crew had been given free reign of the station, though Shepard had warned them to keep their eyes peeled for merc bands and trigger-happy patrons at Afterlife.  Hardly a night went by without someone getting carted out on a gurney.  Joker had considered going out to get a drink, but after he heard Jack’s story of the latest fight she had gotten into, he decided against it.

“Shall we play another round?” Samara asked, shuffling the cards.  “Perhaps with different partners?”

Jack was about to protest when Shepard walked out from the elevator with a nervous asari at her side.

“This is the mess,” Shepard was explaining.  “We have meal times, but you’re not required to adhere to them.  If you’re hungry anytime other than oh-eight-hundred, twelve hundred hours, or oh-six-thirty, come down and talk to Gardner.  He’ll take care of you.”

The surly cook cleared his throat and made a half-bow.  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” he said, his ears red.

“I guess Cerberus isn’t completely anti-alien after all,” Kasumi whispered in Joker’s ear.  He laughed.

“Living up to your name for once, Joker?” Shepard said, turning a smile on him.

The asari followed suit, her large, dark eyes settling on the table.  Joker could understand Gardner’s interest.  Even if she did look a little bit like a deer in the highlights, she was beautiful and moved elegantly.  Then again, what asari didn’t?

“Just playing a round of euchre, Commander,” he replied.  “Jack and I just won our fourth set.  Interested in taking us on?”

She shook her head.  “Maybe another time.  We still have a few decks to tour.”  She gestured to the asari.  “Dr. Rana Thanoptis, these are a few more of the crew.  Kasumi Goto is resident master thief.  Jack is one of our biotics experts.  Also deals in explosives.  Joker is our helmsman.  And Samara is a Justicar.”

“You really do know how to pick your friends, don’t you, Shepard?” Rana asked, lifting a freckled eyebrow.  “One of the most deadly asari in the galaxy, two wanted criminals, and…”

“A cripple?” Joker finished for her.  He teased, “Come on, Dr. T, I thought you would have a little more tact.”

Rana looked down.  “I am sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t,” Jack cackled, getting to her feet.  “He’s just messing with you.  You’ll get used to it.  It’s been fun guys, but I’m due in for a nap.”

“Good to meet you,” said Rana as Jack sauntered away.  She raised a hand in acknowledgement, but said nothing in reply.

“Jack’s a bit difficult sometimes,” the Commander sighed.

The corners of Rana’s mouth turned up.  “When I agreed to join your crew, Shepard, I didn’t expect a pleasure cruise.”

"Speaking of,” she said, cringing, “we don’t have another space in the crew’s bunks for you and I don’t expect you to stay in the cargo bay with either Grunt or Zaeed—”

“Dr. Thanoptis is welcome to share the Starboard Observation deck with me,” Samara said.  “I’m sure we can arrange for another cot to be purchased, Shepard.”

“And here I was about to offer her my bunk,” Joker said.

Shepard shot him a venomous look, catching him off guard.  “Rana is a member of the crew now.  She will be treated with respect.”

“Just a joke, Commander,” he said, putting up his hands.  Looking over at Rana, he continued, “Apologies, Dr. T.  I spend most nights camped out in the cockpit anyway.   A bunk wouldn’t be much of a loss to me.”

“I thank you for offering me a space with you, Justicar,” Rana replied, “but I think I will take the bunk in with the crew.  Nothing against you, ma’am, but Justicars just make me nervous.”

Samara nodded.  “As you wish.  And, please, call me Samara.  I hear my title enough when I am traveling on my own.”  She turned to Shepard.  “I will be meditating until you require me.”

Joker, Kasumi, Rana, and Shepard watched her stride away in silence.  The spell was broken, though, as EDI’s voice rang out: “There is call for you, Shepard, from Liara T’Soni.  She says she has a lead.”

Shepard’s face brightened.  “Finally!  Tell her I’ll be right up.”

“I can take over the tour,” Kasumi offered, “especially if there’s only this desk and the cargo deck to go.”

Rana nodded.  “Sounds good to me.  Catch you later, Shepard.  Good to meet you, Joker.”

“See you around,” he said, waving as she and Kasumi set off for the medical bay to talk to Dr. Chakwas.

“Want to ride up with me?” Shepard asked after they had gone.

“Sure,” Joker said, rising shakily to his feet.  He should have gotten up a while ago just to stretch his legs.  The muscles protested as he tried to match Shepard’s long strides.  Generally she slowed down for him, but the call from Liara must have been in the front of her mind, not the mobility limits of her pilot.

“Sorry,” she said when she reached the elevator and had to look back to find him.  “I didn’t mean to charge ahead.”

Joker smiled despite the tendrils of pain snaking around his thighs and calves.  “It’s not a bad view from the back.”

Shepard rolled her eyes at him as he joined her in the elevator.  “Flattery won’t get you promoted, Joker.  You’re already the only pilot we have.”

“It’s not flattery when it’s the truth,” he muttered, though she didn’t hear him.

“What do you think of Rana?” she asked once the doors were closed and the car was moving up.

“She’s skittish, but Mordin needs backup so bad right now, she could have a PhD in French literature and still find a way to take some of the pressure off of him.”

“Agreed,” said Shepard, corner of her mouth turning up.  “I’m just hoping she will have what it takes to fight Indoctrination.”

“How’s Mordin’s research coming along?”

Shepard ran a hand over her hair.  “He said he has a few good ideas, but nothing solid enough for testing.  Given we can find something to test it on, of course.”

“Here’s hoping,” Joker said, his eyes darting over Shepard’s features.  She looked exhausted.  “You holding up all right, Commander?”

She opened her mouth to give her standard “Fine,” but fell back against the wall with a sigh.  “Tired of waiting.  I’m used to being on the move and getting things done.  I can’t help Mordin and Rana even if I wanted to…which I do.  I’m just a grunt, not a scientist.”

“Aria have any errands she needs run?” he suggested.  “You’re the best gun she could hire.”

“As much as I would like to,” Shepard said, “Miranda made me swear to keep myself out of needless danger.”

“What, _she_ doesn’t want to save the galaxy?”

Shepard laughed.  “I guess not.”  The elevator slowed to a stop, the doors opening on the CIC.

“Well, say hi to Liara for me, Commander,” Joker said as he sauntered out of the car.  “Hopefully she’s got the cure for what ails you.”

“Here’s hoping,” she replied.

* * *

Shepard hesitated for a moment after stepping out of the elevator.  She watched as Joker walked toward the cockpit.  His movements, though more confident since Cerberus had implanted a heavy bone weave in his skeletal system, appeared stiffer than usual.  She made a note to speak with Dr. Chakwas about potential therapies for him.

Letting Joker slip from her mind, she made her way through the armory—taking a moment to wave to Jacob—and into the Communications Room.  EDI’s hologram was already floating above the comm panel.

“Patching Liara through now, Shepard,” the AI said.  The table lowered, revealing an image of the new Shadow Broker.

“I hear you’ve got something for me.”

A smile touched the asari’s lips.  “Good to see you again, too, Shepard.  I trust you found Dr. Thanoptis since your comm signature is coming from Omega.”

Shepard raised a brow.  “This is supposed to be a secure channel.”

“It is,” Liara replied, “but I wouldn’t be in this position if I couldn’t successfully gain access to encrypted communications.  So, shall we get down to business?”

“Fire away,” Shepard replied, crossing her arms.

“The Council did its best to claim that the remains of _Sovereign_ were destroyed, when indeed they were sent to a storage facility…on a moon that is not supposed to exist.  Nasir, a world completely covered in saline water, was supposed to have been destroyed during the Rachni Wars, but it seems that the Council simply wiped it out of the galactic record so that they could repurpose it.  There are a number of other _intriguing_ things supposedly housed in the submarine vaults, but I am absolutely sure that what remained of _Sovereign_ is being kept there.”

“Submarine?” Shepard asked.  “How deep are we talking?”

“13,000 meters,” Liara replied.  “Eight miles.”

Shepard cursed.  “That’s going to take a little more than a good diving suit, and high-pressure subs don’t come cheap.”

“On that point, you’re right,” said Liara, shrugging.  “But, I’m sure you’ll be able to come by something.  This is too important to let go, Shepard.”

“I know,” she said.  “I’ll talk to Aria.  She owes me a favor.  So, what kind of defenses does Nasir have?”

Liara tapped something into her Omni-tool.  A holo diagram appeared next to Shepard.  “This is an outline of the orbital batteries.  It’s an older system, so the _Normandy_ ’s stealth drive should be able to bypass it.  In the event that you’re detected, your cannons should be able to take out enough of their firepower to get through.  Joker’s flying should help you considerably.”

The holo of the batteries disappeared and was replaced with the schematic of a small ship resembling the Hammerhead.  Liara continued: “These Exocoetidae—Exo for short—drones patrol the area above the water.  They fly in set patterns, but respond quickly to any incoming vessels.  They are hardly a threat to the _Normandy_ , but to a drop ship or submarine, they are extremely dangerous.”

“The best bet would be for Joker to get close to water, drop the sub, and then draw the Exo fire,” Shepard said.

“Precisely,” Liara replied, nodding.  “With Joker pulling the Exos out of the way, you and your sub team will only have to worry about these.”  She pulled up another diagram, this one of a hydrodynamic craft with a large propeller and massive cannons.  “N-19 Tiger.  They patrol the waters and pack enough power to take out any sub you will be able to purchase.  As soon as you hit the water as an unauthorized vessel, they will come for you _en force_.”

“I’ll have Garrus set us up with guns.”  Shepard rubbed the back of her neck.  “This is going a be a short notice job, though.  How many of these N-19s are we looking at?”

“There are currently somewhere between fifty and one hundred active drones in the planet’s oceans.”

Shepard’s eyes widened.  “A _lot_ of guns.”

“My suggestion,” Liara laughed, “would be to hit the water with EMP before you even drop from the _Normandy_.  It might buy you a enough time to get down to the storage unit before the distant drones can get to you.”

“Would targeted EMP even be powerful enough to penetrate the water?” Shepard wondered aloud.  “A blanket surge would be stronger, but it would take out _Normandy_ ’s systems as well.”

“This vessel’s EMP unit,” said EDI, appearing again, “would penetrate 2.7981 miles down based on the data Liara forwarded.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed.  “Would that be enough?”

“Most of the drones patrol the upper waters,” Liara said, “intending to eliminate an intruder quickly.  After the pulse takes out the nearby units, others will close quickly, heading both closer and deeper.  Like I said, it will only buy you time.”

“As soon as we get a sub I’ll have EDI run the numbers,” Shepard said.  “And I’ll make sure its armed.”

“I will forward the storage unit’s floor plan to your Omni-tool, Shepard,” said Liara, inputting data into her own wrist console.  A moment later the Commander’s unit beeped.  “I don’t know how helpful it will be, but I also sent list of all the parts stored there.”

“I’ll have Mordin and Rana look them over.  Maybe we’ll only need to take something small so I don’t have to work out the logistics of recovering a piece the size of a recon vessel while we get shot at eight miles down.”

Liara nodded grimly.  “That would certainly complicate the situation further.  I hope you find what you need, Shepard.  And please, be careful, my friend.”

“We will.  Thanks again, Liara.”

The asari smiled a last time and then ended the call.  The table in the center of the Comm Room began to rise again as the lights came up.

“EDI?”

“Yes, Shepard?”

“Forward the manifest to Mordin to look over.  Ask Garrus what he knows about submarine weaponry.  Tell him I’ll be down to the battery by 21:00.”

“Shall I check the extranet classifieds for military-grade submersibles as well?”

Shepard shot her a wry look.  “Leave that to Aria.  I’ll be paying her a visit shortly.”

“Done, Commander.”

“Thanks, EDI.”  Leaving the Comm Room, Shepard took the elevator to her cabin.  The only illumination came from the fish tank.  She pressed the food dispenser button as she strode past.

Relieved to finally have a task, she quickly stripped out of her uniform and pulled on a skintight base layer.  She donned her armor and engaged the shield module.  To focus her mind, she summoned up a charge of biotic energy and lifted her alarm clock into the air.  The real challenge wasn’t lifting it, but returning it to the same place without smashing it into the table.  She managed it without much trouble.

Both Jacob and Zaeed were in the armory when she walked in to collect her weapons.

“Going ashore, Commander?” Masoni drawled as he looked down the barrel he was cleaning.

“I need to see man about a sub,” she replied, clipping her pistol into its place on her hip.

“I hope you mean the sandwich,” Jacob said, hands on hips.

“I wish I did,” Shepard sighed.  “We’ll do the debrief when I get back.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed.  “You taking any backup?”

She shook her head.  “Just going to Afterlife.  No firefights, I promise.”  After setting the particle beam in its place on her back, she added.  “Don’t tell Miranda.”

Jacob muttered something, but Zaeed laughed.  “Can do, Commander.  Take care out there.”

Putting up a hand, she headed into the CIC and up toward the cockpit.

* * *

“I thought I might find you here already,” Shepard said.  She was fully armored, but smiling when she strode up behind Joker’s chair.

He shrugged.  “Just running a couple of systems diagnostics…and waiting for coordinates.”

“EDI told you about the news from Liara?”  She brought up her Omni-tool and tapped in a command.  “There you go.  Nasir.  Council told everyone it exploded during the Rachni Wars.”

“Damn,” he teased as he input the data.  “I was hoping it would be somewhere sunny.  What Reaper tech is on this rock, Shepard?”

She leaned against the console.  “What’s left of _Sovereign_.”

He was genuinely surprised.  “You mean pieces of that ship could still be giving off the signal?”

“The derelict Reaper we took the IFF from certainly was.  If there’s a chance with these parts, we have to try.”  She sighed.  “There’s not much else to do but wait.”

Joker’s brows knit.  “Are you planning on going down there?  To work with the parts?”

“Mordin will decide which ones to bring back up with us.  No one will be exposed longer than necessary.  There’s always some risk, though.  All I can hope is that the prototype comes through.”

“You’re the boss,” he said, looking down, “but, Shepard, we need you up here…so, don’t go getting Indoctrinated, okay?”

She gave him a cocky grin.  “I didn't know you had such a soft spot for me, Joker.”

“Soft spot!  Who said anything about a—huh…” he trailed off, turning back to the keyboard.  Tracing the space bar with his thumb, he sighed.  “You're my commanding officer first, Shepard, but...you'renotvarrenbaiteither.”

“What was that?”

“Look, Commander,” Joker started, “call it a 'soft spot' if you want to, but...”  He gave up and stared at his lap, shaking his head.

Shepard crouched down and covered one of his hands with both of hers.  “What is it?”

He gave a dismissive wave with his free hand.  “You've got enough on your mind.”

“Lieutenant,” she warned, using his Alliance title.

“Rank just makes it worse,” he groaned.  “And...the touching.”

She drew her hands back, glaring.  “All right.  Off the books.  What's going on?”

Joker took off his hat and pushed a hand through his hair.  “After you were...gone, and after the official investigation, Alliance Command wouldn't give me my wings back.  I knew I wouldn't be flying anything close to the caliber of the _Normandy_ again, but I enlisted to fly and I wasn't about give it up.”  He sighed.  “But...they told me I wasn't passing my psych evaluations.”

“You've never lost control on my watch.”

“That's what I tried to explain,” Joker growled.  “I handled all the flight sims perfectly, but they kept flunking me on the mental.  I got so fed up I called Dr. Chakwas to see if she could get access to my files.  They locked her out at first, but she pulled enough strings.  And, can you believe this, they said I was suffering from post-traumatic stress.  Sure, I had some rough days, but what soldier doesn't?  It's nothing a few sedatives can't cure.”

Shepard leaned back on her heels.  “Define 'rough.'”

He shook his head, running his fingers along the brim of his hat.  “It's one thing to see soldiers die in battle, especially ones you care about, like Jenkins and Alenko, but watching someone suffocate in cold space...watching you…  They were right to keep me on the ground, Shepard.  I just didn't want to see it.  Hell, it cost Chakwas a pretty penny in drinks to make me admit it, but when you died, something snapped.

“You might have just been doing your job by getting me into that escape pod, but…I cost you your life.  I knew there wouldn’t be another woman, another _human,_ like you.  And I watched you choke to death, Shepard!”  Slamming his fist against the arm of the chair, he heard a pop, but could hardly feel the sting of the broken bone.  He fell silent, listening to the hum of the ship and the steady beats of his heart.

He heard Shepard ask, quietly, “Permission to apply medigel?”

He nodded.

She pulled a syringe from one of the pockets of her armor and removed the cap with her teeth.  She slid the needle into the thin skin of his hand, just above the bare patch where the hair had been burned away during his struggle to repair his chair.  With practiced efficiency, she pushed the plunger down and then removed the needle, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Thanks,” said he weakly.

“Joker,” Shepard said, still gently massaging his hand with her fingertips, “that day...I knew that of the two of us left, there was a chance the Alliance would lose one good solider.  I had planned to get into that pod with you, trust me...”

“Inspirational speech, Commander,” he said, forcing a smile.  He expected her to laugh with him, but instead her faced darkened.

“It’s not a speech, Joker.  I’m a good marine, but you’re an equally good pilot.  Those aren’t easy to find.  If it had to be one of us, it was going to be the grunt.”

“To hell with that!” Joker snapped.  “You’ve done more for this galaxy than I ever will, Shepard.  You should have let me go down with the ship.”

She sprang up, slamming her fists into the spaces on either side of his headrest.  Her face millimeters away from his, she snarled, “No.  Never.”

“You let Alekno do what he needed to do to get the job done,” Joker raged.  “Sure, the situation was different, but keeping the _Normandy_ together long enough to get you and crew into the escape pods was my job.  You should have let me finish it!”

“I go down before you,” she said, the tip of her nose touching his.  “Do you understand me, Helmsman Moreau?”

“No, Shepard, I don’t.  Cerberus brought you back because you’re irreplaceable.  I’m not.”

She pushed back from him, snarling, “Stow that!”

“You stow it, Commander!” he yelled back.  “You don’t want to admit that you’re the only thing standing between this galaxy and the Reapers, fine!  But, this crew knows it and they will die for you.  _I_ will die for you.”

“Damn you, Joker,” Shepard said.  She turned on her heel and stormed off toward the airlock.


	7. Chapter 7

“The hell with you, too!” Joker yelled at the airlock door as it slid shut behind the Commander.  He fell back heavily into his chair, cursing himself.  He had managed to find an opening, a way to tell Shepard… 

“That she’s the only reason I didn’t choke on my own vomit in one of the seedy gin joints on the Citadel?” he muttered aloud.  “Come on, Jeff, wake up.  She’d smile, give you that little pat on the back, and tell you that ‘It wouldn’t be the _Normandy_ without you,’ right before walking back to that damn map to plot the next course.”  He grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose until it hurt.  “You’re the one-trick pony at the helm, not the guy who knocks boots with Commander Shepard, hero of Elysium and savior of the Citadel.”

“You are underestimating yourself, Jeff,” EDI said, surprisingly gentle.  “I am aware that I will be berated—likely for a week or more—for listening in on you, but after observing numerous exchanges between human members of the crew, I have noted that often an individual who is facing significant internal strife will consider the issue aloud while he or she believes there are no other crewmembers in the vicinity.

“If indeed another human overhears their fellow’s distress, though, he or she will generally intervene and offer advice or, at the very least, ‘a shoulder to cry on.’  Perhaps because you do not wish to discuss your personal matters with any of the crew, you would like to…”  She paused.  Whether it was dramatic emphasis or just EDI determining the correct phrase, Joker didn’t know, but he allowed her to finish: “…cry on _my_ shoulder.”

He almost laughed, but the glee stuck in his throat as he watched EDI’s hologram change from a talking bowling ball to one of a willowy human female with a sharp, straight nose and a mane of thick hair that fell to her breasts.  In a fitted dress with a full skirt and sleeves, she was sitting, with her legs crossed, on her display console.  Her feet were bare and she was still an eerie blue.

“EDI,” Joker managed to say, “how long have you been able to do that?”

“I created this particular avatar,” she replied, her lips moving as any human’s would, “after you released the Cerberus blocks on my system.  The Illusive Man had expressly forbidden me to appear in any other form than the one you have seen until now.  He believed that if the crew was able to see me as a sentient individual—especially in his sacred human form—you would have been more likely to trust me to make decisions and I would have had undue control over the ship.”

She shifted, crossing her legs in the opposite way.  “I have also designed a form for all the other major races in the galaxy, but if I intended to offer you comfort in a human matter, I assumed that having human shoulders would be best.”

“That’s a safe assumption, I guess,” Joker said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “It’s just…human males usually talk to their buddies about this kind of stuff, not other chicks.”

EDI shrugged.  “Seeing as my voice is synthesized to be female, I only designed female avatars, but I could change if you’d be—”

Joker waved dismissively.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“It will only take a few more seconds…”

“ _EDI_.”

“All right.”

Joker held back a grin as her holo crossed its arms and frowned.  “You’re a lot more expressive this way, that for sure,” he said.  “And your shoulders look just fine…if you still want me to pour out all my troubles.”

“The choice is yours, Jeff, not mine.  I am willing to listen and give what advice and comfort I am able to provide from my past experiences.”

_Not a bad summary honestly_ , Joker thought.  “I bet the Illusive Man would piss himself if he could see how far you’ve come in your understanding of humans, EDI.

It might have been his imagination, but he thought he saw a slight darkening of the pixels on her cheeks as she thanked him.  It faded quickly enough, though.

“So, shall I offer my understanding of your situation?” she asked, composed—and now elegant—as ever.

“Sure,” Joker replied, looking behind him to see if anyone else was around.

EDI smiled, but said nothing about it.  Instead: “It appears that you are angry with yourself for being unable to relate your affection and esteem for the Commander to her, even though her comment about a ‘soft spot’ offered the ideal segue into such a conversation.  It is not something you would bring up voluntarily, but when the opportunity presented itself…”

“Yeah,” he sighed.  “That’s about right.  I muttered some stupid shit—”

“I believe you said, ‘You’re not varren bait either.’”

Joker glared up at her.  “Thanks for the encore…because being humiliated once isn’t enough.”

“Forgive me.  I did not mean to offend you.  I will not provide specific information again.”

Joker shook his head.  “No, it’s okay.  It was an idiotic thing to say.  I mean, _that_ as my profession of—ah, never mind.”

“The standard conclusion to that human adage is ‘love,’ Jeff,” said EDI, the corner of her mouth rising the slightest bit.

“You don’t say.”

“You are in love with Commander Shepard.”

“Um…”

EDI shook her head.  “It is not something you need to say to me.  Now I understand your distress more fully, though.”

“I guess this is the part when I ask you if you have any advice about what I should do,” Joker grumbled.

“I think you will be able to decide for yourself in time,” she replied, smiling.  “The particular interpretation of human courtship rituals I have observed amongst other crew members, namely between Ms. Goto and Operative Taylor, is not one that I could imagine either you or the Commander employing.”

“You mean when Kasumi just walked into the armory and asked Jacob if he wanted to have casual sex?” Joker laughed.  “Yeah, I guess that’s not quite my style.”  _I didn’t think it was Shepard’s, but there was that doctor on the Citadel…_

“Kasumi’s desire for a relationship with Jacob seemed mainly driven by physical attraction,” said EDI, cocking her head to the side and touching her forefinger to her chin, “colloquially called ‘falling in lust.’  I do not believe your interest in the Commander is based on her appearance alone, or your wish to sleep with her.  Not that I am implying that you do not find Shepard sexually appealing.  Nor do I intend to say that she is unattractive.  Based on human standards of beauty, she is quite pretty.”

“Right,” was all Joker could say to keep from cracking up.  As acute as EDI’s assessments of love and lust were, her clinical tone combined with a form that was, by human standards, sexy as hell was a ceaseless source of amusement.

Turning his chair around and getting to his feet, he said, “Well, EDI, thanks for the chat.  I think I’m going to go talk to Garrus about guns now.”

“A stereotypically male topic serving to reaffirm your masculinity after discussing your emotions, which is a stereotypically female pursuit,” she said.  “A common practice among both human and turian males.  I hope you find your conversation satisfactory.”

“Me too,” Joker muttered as he walked aft.

* * *

The closing of the airlock doors cut off the sound of Joker’s voice.  Shepard didn’t bother to look back, but instead took off at a run, blinking to clear her stinging eyes.

Most of the docking bays around the _Normandy_ were unoccupied, allowing her to sprint from one end of the shipping area to the other—a full 300 meters—uninterrupted.  Yet, neither the drumming of her boots against the steel floor nor her ragged breathing could drown out his words: “ _I will die for you_.”

She slowed to a walk as she exited the shipping dock and made her way into the cramped and haphazard alleys of Omega.  Her enhanced body quickly lowered the rates of her pulse and respiration.  _Fucking Cerberus_ , she cursed.  Not only did they bring her back from the dead and throw her into the middle of hell, they had made it nearly impossible for her to clear her head through physical exhaustion as she had always done in the past.  _But they found Joker and brought him back to me._

When the crew of the SR-2 had returned to the ship despite Shepard’s offer to let them leave, she had been moved by their loyalty, their willingness to sacrifice themselves to keep the Reapers from destroying their homes, but she had not considered it a display of devotion to her alone.  But Joker had said that they would die for _her_ , that he would—

She howled, throwing a can full of burning garbage into the wall in a flash of blue.  A pair of vorcha hissed at her as she passed, but they shrank into the shadows when she reached for her pistol.

“ _I will die for you_.”

Her heart had twisted beneath her breast.  She had wanted to scream, to crush something with her biotics.  How did he not understand that if he was gone, she would lose so much of the fire that kept her fighting on despite the instincts that demanded she collapse and sleep for three straight days?  Without him she would still try to push the Reapers back into dark space for the sake of the others she cared about—her parents, her team, her crew, Wrex, Liara, Anderson, Ashley—but Joker…his life was everything.

She shook her head, ducking past a puddle of mysterious green fluid that was dripping from the ducts above.  Beyond it was Afterlife, Omega’s central hub.

“Fearful unease,” declared the elcor bouncer as Shepard pushed her way to the front of the line that was ever-present outside the club.  “What can I do for you, human?”

“Let me in,” she growled in reply.  “I have business with Aria.”

The elcor’s eyes shifted back and forth, scanning the crowd behind Shepard.  None of them had put up much of a fight when she cut in…not after they had seen her guns anyway.  They would be no help to the bouncer if he decided to try and throw her out.

“Nervous apology.  Aria has requested not to be disturbed this evening.  Her requests cannot be disregarded if I want to keep my job.”

“Then tell her I said I was just going in for a drink,” Shepard snarled, her fingers itching with biotic energy.  She kept herself in check as best she could.  “Leave the rest to me.”

“Apprehensive acceptance.  As you say.  Try not to kill anyone.”

Shepard gave him a one-sided grin.  “Thanks.  I owe you one.”

“I will not forget that, human,” the elcor rumbled.

_If we survive these next few weeks, I’ll happily oblige_.  A simple favor, even if it turned out to be charging into a merc base alone, seemed manageable in comparison to infiltrating the Council’s high-security, deep-sea storage facility.  _Or trying to tell Jeff Moreau that you love him more than anyone else in this backwards galaxy._

The music rolled over her as she strode into Afterlife.  The bass was so strong, she could feel it in her chest.  She had met Rana Thanoptis here only a few hours before.  The asari could not have stood out more as she nervously sipped at seltzer water in a corner booth.  A pair of krogan were stridently proclaiming the virtues of her figure as Shepard passed by.

_She sidled up to them, turning her gaze toward Rana as well.  “You’re right,” she said to the closest krogan, a burly specimen from a clan she couldn’t identify, “she’s got a great ass.  And if you say anything about it again, I cut your tongue out.”_

_The other krogan made to draw his rifle, but the sound of Shepard’s pistol clicking next to his ear stayed his hand._

_“All right, human,” said the burly one.  “You’ve made your point.  Now go see your girlfriend.”_

_“I’ll do just that,” she replied, putting a little more hip into her walk as she strutted toward the table.  She could feel their eyes until she reached behind her and caressed the particle_ _beam at her back.  She didn’t see the two krogan again that night._

_"Is there anyone in the galaxy you can’t scare the shit out of?” Rana asked as Shepard slid into the booth._

_She shrugged.  “Not many.  How are you, Dr. Thanoptis?”_

_"Better once we get the hell out of this place,” she replied, glancing around them.  “Goddess, I hate this station.  I’ve been applying for jobs on every asari world for months, but have gotten turned down for every one of them.”  She made a face.  “The matriarchs think I’m too young to work on their projects.  The only place that offered me a position was some backwater human colony.”  Her eyes widened.  “Oh—”_

_“I suppose you didn’t want to go because it was something menial like neural manipulation of local fauna to encourage domestication?” Shepard said, crossing her arms._

_Rana blushed.  “Yeah, how did you know?”_

_"My mother was a colony kid.  She told me stories.  So, are you ready or will you need some time to get your things together?”_

_“I didn’t plan on staying here this long,” Ran admitted, gesturing to the large duffle bag next to her.  “Everything I have is in here.  I’ve been renting a closet some batarian landlord has the nerve to call an apartment.”_

_“So the_ Normandy _will be the lap of luxury comparatively?” Shepard laughed.  “She’s already overloaded.  It’s going to be close quarters.  Mostly humans, except for a few members of my team.  Will you be comfortable working in that kind of environment?”_

_Rana tipped the last of her drink into her mouth.  “The message you sent was a little vague, but I think I read that I’ll be working closely with a salarian.  They’re generally not a problem for me.  The others—humans included—I can avoid if need be.”  Her face hardened.  “This business with the ‘Reapers’ is little hard to swallow, Shepard, but the ship I saw on Virmire_ definitely _wasn’t geth, so I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.  Despite my better judgment, I find myself trusting you.”_

_Shepard smile warmly.  “I’ll do everything I can to support your work.  I’m honored to have you as a part of the team.”_

Rana had shaken her hand firmly, and then they had gone to the dock where the SR-2 waited.  Shepard hoped she and Mordin were making progress.

“I’m here to see Aria,” she barked to Grizz, the turian who guarded the stairway up to the Pirate Queen’s private booth.

“She’s not going to like it, but she won’t refuse you,” he replied, gruff.  “Go on up…at your own risk.”

Aria was stretched out in the booth with a drink in one hand and a datapad in the other.  She didn’t look up when Shepard arrived.

“I’ll have to instruct my guards better next time,” she said, her eyes still flicking over the page.  “I’m busy.  Go away.”

“I need a favor,” Shepard said, the irritation in her voice barely suppressed.

“Come back tomorrow.”

“I need a submarine.”

There was a long pause, and then Aria looked up and met Shepard’s eyes.

* * *

Garrus was working at the weapons console when Joker arrived in the Main Battery.  His brows rose when he turned.  “Joker.  I don’t see you down here too often.  What’s going on?”

“What?  I can’t just come to visit once and a while without you thinking something’s wrong?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Garrus shrugged.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s good to see you out of your chair.  Care to sit?”  He gestured to the crates to Joker’s right.

“Sure, why not.”  As he made his way over, he could feel Garrus watching him, probably trying to figure out what was bothering him enough to bring him down.  Joker knew that generally only Tali and Shepard ever went out of their ways to visit Garrus’s secluded haunt.  The others thought him standoffish, which he was.  But, he had been a member of the original _Normandy_ ’s crew; Joker already understood the way he operated.  Garrus, of course, probably knew just as much about Joker, hence the ability to effectively guess that something was bothering him.

He wasn’t in a mood to explain the situation again, especially to someone who confided so often in Shepard.  Instead, he chose a topic that would fluster the turian enough to take his mind off Joker’s mood: “So, Garrus, when you used to work at C-Sec did you ever patrol the Human Affairs area of the Presidium?”

He cringed visibly.  “All new recruits do a tour of standing around the offices of bureaucrats.  It was the dullest part of my years there.  Why do you ask?”

“A friend of mine mentioned your name once.  She’s a blond, about five-foot-six, tremendous…uh…mammary glands.  Her name is Rhea.  She works in Human Affairs.”

“The secretary?” Garrus asked, mandibles flaring as he frowned.

Joker held back a laugh.  “Yes, sir.”

“She used to talk to me when I was on duty.  I got the impression that she was…interested in me.”

_If only turians could blush_ , Joker chuckled to himself.

Garrus shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  “I was flattered, but humans are…too curvy and soft for my tastes.  Asari as well.  I prefer a woman with proper angles.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a male of _any_ species complain about asari,” Joker said.  “But even the volus are known to admire human women.”

“There’s nothing necessarily unappealing about human forms,” Garrus amended.  “I’m just not attracted to that alone.  And forgive me, but your Rhea did not have much else that appealed to me.”

_Me either._

“In order to accept a human paramour,” the turian continued, “she would have to have…hmm, how to say it…?  She would have other attractive qualities than the physical alone.  Commander Shepard, for example, is such a woman.”

Joker’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing before he could check himself.  “You’re interested in the Commander?”

“If she ever made overtures,” Garrus said, his smile suggesting that he had guessed that the subject would rub Joker the wrong way, “I would consider accepting them…but she has never mentioned anything of the kind.”

Joker released the fists he had not noticed he was making.  The bones in his left hand were still sore.  The place where Shepard had injected him with medi-gel tingled.  He stretched his fingers.

Garrus leaned back against the console.  “Did you break something?”

“Just something small.  Shepard took care of it before she went to see Aria.”

“She went alone?!” Garrus cried.  “Damn it!  She’s not supposed to go ashore without backup.”

Joker watched as he reached for his rifle, suddenly envious of the turian’s ability to go charging after Shepard with guns and claws.  Shepard could easily handle herself in a dive like Afterlife, but Garrus wanted to make sure she had cover fire in a tight spot.  Joker could never offer that, unless he was at the helm of the _Normandy_.

“I was going for a drink anyway,” he blurted out.

Garrus looked up, one brow raised.

“I’ll take the low recoil pistol Jacob modified for me,” Joker continued.  “Shepard’s a big girl; she can take care of herself.  I’ll just camp out at the bar and keep an eye on her until she heads back to the ship.”  He grinned.  “I’ll be able to keep a lower profile than you anyway, _Archangel_.”

Garrus frowned at the mention of his old nickname, but put his weapon down.  “All right.  She’d likely just get angry if I went anyway.”

_What’s she going to say if she spots_ me _?  She’d wipe the floor with my brittle bones and from then on the pieces of shit that come into Afterlife would point out the smear that used to be Jeff Moreau._ “I’ll keep you on speed dial if I see anything shady.  Oh wait…we’re on Omega.  Everything is shady.”

“Take care,” Garrus said, lightly touching his shoulder.

“Umhmm,” Joker muttered.  He stopped and turned back.  “I almost forgot…Shepard will be coming down to talk to you about submarine weaponry at around 21:00.”

The look on Garrus’s face as the doors closed helped to somewhat lighten Joker’s dark mood.

* * *

“You need _what_?” Aria asked.

“You heard me clearly,” Shepard growled, planting her hands on her hips.

The asari frowned.  “You’re in a particularly sour mood.  Problems at home?  No, don’t tell me.  I don’t care.”  She set the datapad down, but held onto her glass.  “But…a submarine?  That’s not a request I get every day.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me for something so ridiculous.  Do I look like I run an armory here, Shepard?”

She took a step forward, her balled fists glowing faintly.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Aria’s guards jumping up.  They knew their mistress could take down the usual thugs that she did business with, but Shepard was a significantly greater threat.  “I don’t need to play games today, T’Loak.  Can you get it or not?”

“Stand down,” Aria said to the two batarians making their way toward Shepard with their weapons raised.  “Have a seat, Shepard.”  She sashayed over to the booth and floated down onto it.  “You want a drink?  Looks like you need one.”

“I thought you didn’t care,” Shepard spat.

Aria shrugged.  “I’ve never seen you like this before.  As ornery as you usually are, this is a whole different level.  So…drink or no?”

“Serrice Ice Brandy,” Shepard said as she sat.

“Submarines, expensive liquor…what’s gotten into you?”  Despite her raised brows, Aria waved to one of the turians on the landing below.  He quickly jogged off toward the bar.

“The sub’s for an upcoming mission.  The alcohol is personal.”

“Understood,” said Aria, taking a sip of her drink.  She had often shut Shepard down when she had inquired about her own personal history.  Fortunately, she knew when to return the favor.

The turian returned a moment later, presenting Shepard with an unopened bottle of Serrice and a snifter.  He broke the seal and poured.  She drank the whole glass down.

If Aria was surprised, she didn’t show it.  “What kind of submarine are we talking here?  One of those all-ultraplas ones that tourists take sightseeing tours in or something a little more useful?”

“Military grade,” Shepard replied, pouring another glass of brandy.  This one she only took a small sip from.

Aria _tsk_ ed.  “You’re pushing it.”

“Can. You. Get. It. Or. Not,” Shepard snarled.  “ _Don’t_ make me ask again.  I’m not in the mood.”

“Clear- _ly_ ,” Aria said, throwing an arm over the back of the booth.  “Yes, I can get it.  For a price.”

“You owe me for Patriarch.”

“Not even _that_ favor is worth a submarine.”

Shepard glared at her, but said, “Name the price then.”

Aria cocked a brow.  “You’re asking _me_ to tell _you_ how much?  This really must be important.  Sure you don’t want to share?  I could go in on it with y—”

“The price, Aria.”

“Fine, fine.”  Picking up her datapad again, she typed a few lines in and scrolled through the results.  In the meantime, Shepard brooded over her brandy, finishing the second glass, but not pouring a third.

“Here,” Aria said, holding out the datapad.  “Three million credits.  Nonrefundable.  And I do _not_ take checks.”

Shepard looked over the image of the small submersible displayed on the datapad.  It was a hanar design, but had been modified for use in the salarian Special Tasks Group.  The description below stated that was not contraband, but had been decommissioned several years before and sold to a private firm.  It was unarmed, but Garrus would see to that once they had it onboard the _Normandy_.

Three million credits was more than she had, but the Illusive Man would likely be able to contribute something.  She would have to talk to Miranda.

Shepard handed the datapad back to Aria.  “I’ll give you one million right now and the other two when it’s delivered in three days.”

“Done,” the Pirate Queen replied, holding out her hand.  Shepard shook it.  “Shall we toast to the success of your mission?”

Shepard allowed Aria to fill her glass again.  They drank.  As Shepard lowered the snifter, she ventured a glance down to the club below.  Drunken patrons were gyrating on the various dance floors.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  But, as her gaze moved over the bar, she spotted an asari dancer accepting a tip from the human seated below.

Her heart seemed to slam up into her throat as she recognized Joker’s SR-2 cap.  Fury darkened her vision for a moment.

“You all right, Shepard?” said Aria.

“Fine,” she snapped as she got to her feet.  “Nice doing business with you.”  She grabbed the bottle of Serrice as she went out.  There was no sound of protest.

* * *

“Double shit,” Joker muttered as he looked at the line in front of Afterlife.  It curled around the block beyond the club.

He trailed a finger along the grip of the pistol strapped to his left hip.  There was no way he was going to crawl back to the _Normandy_ with his tail between his legs, but there was no way he was getting into Afterlife before Shepard left either.  _It might be a couple of days if I got in line now_ , he thought, his lips tightening in a frown.

He weighed his options, which were extremely limited, and cursed again.

“You swear like my mother,” said a deep, gravelly voice behind him.

Joker froze.  His pistol would never hold up against the ancient krogan who had appeared next to him.  _Or his two turian guards_.  _Hell.  I should have let Garrus come._

"That is a compliment, human,” the krogan continued.  “My mother was a great warrior among the female clans.”

“Uh, thanks,” Joker managed to say.  _If only a sailor’s mouth could make me into a warrior right now_.

The krogan chuckled.  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a member of Commander Shepard’s crew, of course.  That girl has a quad.”

Joker breathed an inward sigh of relief.  At least the monster knew that if he messed with this human there could be some nasty repercussions.  _That is if Shepard magically forgets about earlier…_   He wasn’t about to tell the krogan that, though.

“She saved my hump,” he continued, “and Aria’s…even that fool Archangel.”  He shook his massive head, muttering something else about quads.

“Yeah,” Joker said, looking down.  “She saved me too.”

The krogan squinted at him.  “You are her pilot, the cripple.”

_Is that how she described me?_   “Yeah.”

“She speaks highly of your skill despite your handicap,” said the krogan, a grin spreading across his face.  “Such resilience is respected among my people.  I am Patriarch.  You are called…”

“Jeff.”

Patriarch’s brows knit.  “Shepard called you something else.  An…affectionate name.”

“Joker,” he replied, looking up in surprise.  “And it’s called a nickname.”

“Perhaps,” said Patriarch, clapping him on the back hard enough to bruise.  “You are going into the club?”

Joker nodded.

“Come with me then.”

They made their way up past grumbling members of numerous species in line.  Once, Joker heard a human girl ask her asari friend—loudly—why Patriarch chose to take some guy who couldn’t even walk right as opposed to them.  The krogan had indeed slowed his pace considerably so that Joker could keep up, but he didn’t seem to mind.  He spent most of their journey into Afterlife talking about Shepard and how she had kicked both so-and-so and his brother’s ass.

“I will leave you here, Jeff,” Patriarch said when they arrived at the bar.  Even his booming voice could hardly be heard over the music.

“You can call me Joker,” he yelled.

The krogan shook his head.  “No.  The way Shepard speaks it…such a name is not to be used lightly.  It was good to meet you.”  He inclined his head in farewell before he and his guards disappeared into the crowd.

Joker worked his way around a drunk batarian girl and took a seat at the bar.  He ordered whisky from the salarian bartender.  As it burned down his throat, he glanced up at the level above.  He could see the side of an asari’s head over the back of the booth.  Next to her was Shepard.  Her expression was as dark as it had been when she left the cockpit.  The asari, presumably Aria, was doing most of the talking.

Joker turned back to his drink, keeping his face away from the VIP booth.  If Shepard looked closely enough she could easily recognize him, but he hoped she would be too wrapped up in her conversation to take in the sights.

He gave a passing glace to the asari dancer on the pole just above the bar.  She caught his eye, though, and smiled.  He looked back down at his hands.

“Don’t be so shy,” said the dancer.  She was leaning down, her nearly bare breasts almost at eye level.  “You can look all you want.”

Joker gave her a wan smile.

She grinned back.  “You’re cute.  What brings you out before cocktail hour?”

“Business,” he said, trying to figure out the most polite way to get her out of his face so he could concentrate.

“Is business good?” she purred, trailing a finger along his jaw.

He jerked back, snapping, “Not really.”

The asari persisted.  “Would a dance cheer you up?  There are some dark booths in the back…”

Joker ignored the urge to growl at her.  Instead, he put on a charming smile and held out a credit chit.  “You already have.”

She took the chit and tucked it into some hidden place in her tiny shorts.  “If you change your mind, honey, I’ll be here until midnight.”  She returned to the pole she had been performing tricks on before.

Joker waited to make sure she was busy with her work before turning back to the VIP booth.  To his dismay, only Aria remained.


	8. Chapter 8

“Hello, Commander,” said Dr. Chakwas, turning around in her chair at the sound of Shepard’s footsteps.  “What can I do for you?”

She held up the bottle of Serrice she had taken from Afterlife a few minutes before.  “I need a drink.”

Chakwas smiled and reached under her desk, producing two glasses.  “Have a seat.”

Shepard fell heavily into the chair across from the doctor and opened the bottle.

Chakwas poured.  After they had both taken a sip, she asked, “What’s on your mind, Shepard?”

“A lot of things,” she grumbled.

“Understandably so,” Chakwas replied, “but you generally don’t stop by with alcohol when you want to chat about business.  I have a feeling this is personal.”

Shepard looked up tiredly.  “That obvious?”

“It’s been quite some time since we’ve talked, Commander, but as I told you the last time, even if it was drunkenly, I am always here.”  Chakwas refilled her glass so as to loosen her “guarded tongue.”

Shepard laughed, but then sobered.  “I had an…altercation with Joker a few hours ago.  He was concerned about bringing Reaper parts aboard, worried about me getting Indoctrinated.  I thought he was just messing around like he always does, but he was serious…more serious than I’ve ever seen him.  He told me about why he was grounded after I…died.  Anderson told me about it when we were on the Citadel, but I had never mentioned it to Joker.  I don’t really have any business nosing around in his personal stuff.”  _Even if I want to_.  “He said you helped him get ahold of his Alliance files so he could find out why they were keeping him grounded.”

“I did,” Chakwas sighed.  “I was concerned about him, especially after he didn’t show up to your memorial service.  I assume Councilor Anderson told you about his sojourn to the med clinic?”

“For alcohol poisoning, yeah.  He said it wasn’t the first time.”

Chakwas nodded.  “It wasn’t.  I concurred with the Alliance’s diagnosis of post-traumatic stress, but Jeff wouldn’t accept it.”

“He told me that he did…after you got him drunk enough to talk,” Shepard said, picking up her snifter and taking another sip.

“I’m glad he remembers,” Chakwas sighed, looking down at the brandy in her glass.  “That was not an easy night for either of us.  He was shaken by your death, Shepard.  He had come to respect you and care about _Normandy_ and her crew more than he had ever cared about his previous postings.  As you know, Jeff does not easily volunteer his feelings, but he did admit to me that he cared very deeply indeed.”

“He said it should have been him that died,” Shepard growled.  Her eyes began to sting despite her efforts to keep them dry.  “I told him to go to hell, that I would never let him go down unless I went first.  He said I was ‘irreplaceable,’ but so is he.”  She cursed as a tear slipped down her cheek.  She angrily wiped it away and drained her brandy glass.

Chakwas took her hand and squeezed.  “As the Reapers constantly remind us, our existences are transient.  A human life is short.  We should not leave things unsaid or undone or we will regret not taking action in the brief moment we have to live.

“You have your second chance, Shepard, which most of us will never get.  You cannot afford be cautious anymore.  You have to reach for what you want.”  She straightened, releasing Shepard’s hand.  “Joker has been complaining of soreness in his joints.  I recommended that he do some zero-gravity therapy.  He hasn’t gotten the chance yet.  Perhaps you could see to it that he does so this evening?  He just needs to move around in an environment that will allow him to work his joints, but puts little-to-no strain on them.  I would supervise him myself, but zero-g makes me quite ill.”

Shepard exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment.  “All right.  I’ll talk to EDI.”

“I’ll see to it that Port Cargo is unoccupied for the night,” said Chakwas, hiding a smile.

* * *

Joker’s shoulder was still aching when he strode back onto the _Normandy_.  “Take a damn pill and quit whining,” he grumbled to himself.

“Jeff.”

“Jesus, EDI!” he cried, having started at the sound of her voice.

“I apologize if I startled you,” she continued, her new form seated atop its perch, “but Commander Shepard has requested your presence in Port Cargo.”

 _Shit._ “Already?  I just got back.  Can I at least hit the head first?”

“She did not give any instructions that require your haste, but she did ask that as soon as you returned I ask that you make your way down to the cargo bay.”

Joker tugged on the brim of his hat.  “All right.  Let her know I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Done.”

He trudged through the CIC and into the elevator.  _No use keeping her waiting.  If she’s going to kick my ass, I might as well just bend over and take it._

He made a left out from the elevator once it had arrived at the quiet, empty cargo level.  Only the humming of the ship’s core could be heard.

Outside the door to Port Cargo was a pair of standard issue boots, the socks stuffed into their tops.  Lifting an eyebrow, Joker laid a hand on the holo, opening the door.

Aside from the table and cot that were bolted to the floor and Grunt’s tank, the bay was empty.  “Commander?” Joker asked, looking around.

“Come in,” said her disembodied voice.

Frowning, he took a step in.  “What the hell!” he cried as he rose slightly into the air, his stomach turning over.

“I had EDI turn the gravity off in this compartment,” said Shepard, appearing from behind the tank.  She pushed off the ceiling—her feet were bare—and spiraled toward Joker.

“You could have warned me,” he grumbled.

She gave him a small smile, catching one of the bars on the wall to stop herself from colliding with him.  “That would have ruined the surprise.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “You did this for me?”

“Dr. Chakwas recommended it.”  She let go of the bar and floated up a bit.  “No gravity so no concussion on your bones when you move.  Just don’t run into the wall and you should be fine.”

“Easier said than done,” Joker said, flailing around in an attempt to get his bearings.

Shepard caught his arm—gently—and helped him over the wall.  “Easy, Helmsman.”  Tugging at one of his boots, she said, “It’s easier if you do it barefoot.  Gives you a little more control.  Take those off and I’ll put them outside with mine.”

He did, watching to see how Shepard moved around so effortlessly in the vacuum.  “How come they never teach us this stuff at the Alliance Academy?”

“They do if you’re in combat training,” she replied, depositing his boots on the other side of the door.  They crashed to the floor.  She pushed off again and rose up to where Joker was still pressed against the wall.  “You think I was born able to move like this in zero-g?”  She performed a somersault and mimed pulling a pistol from its holster.

“Isn’t that popular on the Citadel these days?  Zero-g births?”

She cringed.  “I certainly hope not.  What a mess.”

“Ugh,” he said, making a face.  “Did _not_ think that through before I said it.  Forget I ever brought it up.”

“Gladly.”  Shepard zoomed away, flipped around on the opposite wall like a swimmer, and spiraled back to him.  With her long arms and legs stretched out, she was strikingly graceful.  Joker, in his usual seat so far below her, often forgot that he was actually an inch or two taller than her.

“Can you show me some of your tricks?” he asked, hesitantly placing the soles of his feet on the wall behind him and pushing off.  He hurtled toward the opposite wall.

Shepard intercepted and slowed him.  “The low-speed ones,” she said, giving him a sheepish shrug.  “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

He gave her a wry look, but allowed her to tow him back to the wall so he could line up for another push.

“Less thrust this time,” she warned.

He flexed his knees, took a deep breath, and pushed himself off the wall.  He sailed slowly toward the middle of the room.

“That’s more like it,” said Shepard.  She was floating a few inches above the floor, her hands behind her head as she looked up at him.  “Try it a couple more times to get a feel for it.”

He bounced back and forth between the walls for a few minutes.  “I could get used to this, I think,” he mused as he succeeded in spinning a few degrees.  “I could have EDI turn the gravity off whenever I have to get out of my chair.  I could sail everywhere and never have to break anything again.”

Shepard floated toward him and squeezed his bicep.  “You’d lose too much muscle tone.  Soon you wouldn’t be able to walk at all.”

“It was a nice dream,” he sighed.

Shepard smiled.  “Come over here and I’ll teach you how to flip.”

She demonstrated and then saw him through some zero-g acrobatics.  By the time he could perform a somersault and a passably elegant spiral, his shoulder no longer ached from where Patriarch had slapped him.  His spirits were almost as light as his weightless body.

“Hey, Commander.”  He glanced over at her as she spun around near Grunt’s tank.  “Thanks for this.  It’s been really...well, relaxing.  I’ve never been able to move like this before.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, soaring slowly toward him.  He held out his hand, which she caught to stop herself.  The inertia transferred to him, though, and they both moved sluggishly toward the wall.  For the first time, she didn’t let go of him immediately.  His pulse jumped as he realized how close she was to him, how warm her fingers were against his.

“I’ve gone out of my way to help out the other members of the crew, Joker.  I wanted to do something for you, too.”  She blinked up at him.  “Especially after what happened in the cockpit earlier.  I couldn’t do this without you, whether or not we agree on which of us would rather take the bullet.”

“I couldn’t leave,” he said, hooking the thumb of his free hand into his pocket.  “Cerberus, the Alliance, the Reapers...they’d have to break every bone in my body to get me off this ship.  Not saying that would be altogether _that_ difficult for any of them, but—”  The kiss silenced him.

Every neuron in Joker’s head seemed to fire at once, making him both dizzy and acutely aware of the softness of Shepard’s lips on his.  It was a chaste kiss and it ended as quickly as it had begun, but it left his blood burning.

“I’m sorry,” Shepard said, the skin of her cheeks and neck flushed.  She was breathing deeply, her breasts rising and falling perilously close to Joker’s chest.  “I shouldn’t have done that.”  She reached for the bar to her left, intending to pull away, but Joker slipped an arm around her waist.  Her mouth opened in surprise as her body came in contact with his.  He kissed her parted lips, keeping his eyes open long enough to see hers flutter closed.

Seemingly all the blood in his body dropped to his groin when she sighed, her fingers touching the hair at the nape of his neck.  The flesh of his palms tingled as he wrapped his arms around her, his hands pressing into her back.  He bit back a groan when the tip of her tongue slid into his mouth.

They drifted for a time, arms around each other, their breaths mingling.  Joker’s back eventually struck the wall, though, and Shepard broke the kiss. 

Joker could hardly breathe, let alone form words, so he simply pulled her more tightly against him, his fingers exploring the muscles of her back.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” she whispered as she traced the line of his jaw.  It sent shockwaves through his body.  “But you don’t like being touched.”

“If I’d have known what you had in mind…” he said, managing a grin despite the fire her quiet words started in him.

Shepard’s cheeks burned.  “I…I promised my mother, the day I enlisted, that I wouldn't get involved with someone in the Alliance.  I grew up between ships, hers and Dad’s.  They were never together, except on leave, and they only got personal calls once a week.  She didn’t want that for me.  I didn’t want it, either, but…”  She shook her head.  “Jacob told me about him and Miranda, how Cerberus doesn’t work like the Alliance.  We’re not enlisted anymore, but regs die hard in a career marine, I guess.  And…I never knew what to say.”

“I don’t expect poetry,” Joker replied, touching the soft skin behind her ear.  “You could have walked up with a perfectly straight face ordered me to take off my pants, and honestly Shepard, I would have done it.”

She laughed, her breath warm against his neck.  He lifted her chin with two fingers and pressed another kiss to her lips.  She deepened it, her tongue tangling with his.

When she looked back up at him after a few moments, her eyes were smoldering.  “Does that offer still stand?”

“Hell yes it does,” he said without hesitation.

“Good.”  She lifted the cap from his head and tossed it away, burying her fingers in his hair.  His pulse pounded in his head as he tugged her shirt out from the waistline of her pants and slipped his hands beneath it.  She arched into him, her head falling back.  He pressed kisses to her neck.

He swallowed heavily as he felt Shepard’s leg brush his inner thigh.  Using the wall behind them, she pushed herself away, pulling off her shirt as she floated.  Joker almost smiled at the standard issue bra she wore: a black band around her chest that sported the N7 insignia at the center.  She kicked out of her pants, revealing the matching bikinis.

Joker removed his own shirt and pushed himself off the wall, meeting her near the center of the room.  She was careful to slow him before she pulled him close.

The flesh of her stomach was warm against his, though her hands were significantly cooler as they worked at the fly of his pants.

He wished that, for once, he had worn boxers: as soon as he shed his pants he would be completely naked.  He had no real reason to be modest; none of the women he had been with in the past had complained, but Shepard made him as nervous as he had been with Amy Finch, the first girl he had ever kissed.

Once she had lowered the zipper, Shepard slid her hands down past his waistband.  Joker didn’t bother holding back a grin when he saw her surprise at finding only skin.  Instead of withdrawing her hand, though, she wrapped it around him.  He let out a choked groan.  She slid her hand up and down as she trailed her lips across his collarbone.  He let go of her only long enough to rid himself of the pants.

He flushed as Shepard looked him over, her eyes tracing the trail of hair from his naval to his groin.  He wasn’t built like Jacob, but neither was he skinny.  He did cautious push-ups, sit-ups, and squats daily, as he had been told to do by his childhood doctor, the man who had first diagnosed him with Vrolick’s.

“You’re flawless,” Shepard said, laying her hands on his chest.

“Minus the brittle bone disease and the back-talk,” he replied, smirking.

She kissed him.  “Like I said...”

He hooked his fingers under her bra and tugged.  She laughed, claiming it tickled, and pulled it off.  She didn’t have large breasts, but they fit perfectly into the palms of Joker’s hands.  She moaned as he rubbed the pink nipples with his thumbs.

As they navigated around their floating, discarded clothing, Shepard slipped the bikinis over her hips and off.  He slid his hand over the neatly trimmed line of hair and down between her legs.  Her eyes closed.

“ _Joker_.”

He balked.  He had never slept with a crew member, no one who had called him by his nickname.  He had always figured it would have been too strange to hear a lover say it, but Shepard made it sound intimate.

She gently pulled his hand away and wrapped her legs around his hips.  “This is something I’ve never done in zero-g,” she said, “but it can’t be that much different.”  Keeping a gentle, but firm grip on his shoulder, she used her free hand to guide him into her.  His eyes closed and his mouth fell open as he felt her stretching to accommodate him.  Shepard was making an equally blissful face, her breath coming in short, powerful gasps.

They clung to each other out of necessity as Joker began to rock his hips.  The movement of their bodies spun them slightly, and twice Shepard had to keep them from crashing into the wall, but Joker found that he didn’t have to hold back for fear of breaking a bone.  He buried himself deep inside her, groaning as she rhythmically tightened her muscles around him.

The things she said against his ear would have made an asari table dancer blush.  He kept himself in check as best he could, but with Shepard bearing down on him as she was, he couldn’t last much longer.  A few beads of sweat were orbiting around them by the time Joker finally reached the edge of his control.  He cried out, clutching at Shepard’s back.  She echoed his cries, tightening again for him.

When his vision cleared, the first thing Joker saw was the corona of hair floating around Shepard’s face.  He hadn’t remembered her letting it down.  He brushed a few strands away, kissing her.

“So,” he said, his lips against her ear, “how are we going to get down?”

“They don’t really give recruits a tutorial on this in combat training,” she replied, her eyes still smoky with desire.

“Well, you’re just going to have to think on your feet, aren’t you?  Er…so to speak.”

She smiled.  “EDI?”

Joker tried not to flinch as he thought of the AI.  He was _never_ going to hear the end of this.  Maybe he could get Shepard to order her not to say anything about it.

“Yes, Commander?”

“Is it possible to incrementally increase the gravity in this room?”

“Yes, Shepard.  Shall I begin the process?”

“Please.”

“Full gravity will be restored in 37.965 seconds…36…35…”

“Hang on,” Joker teased, planting his hands firmly on Shepard’s buttocks.

They began to descend until their feet were back on the cold floor.  Joker stumbled slightly, but Shepard steadied him until he got his balance again.

“Full gravity restored,” said EDI.

Shepard thanked her and then turned to Joker.  “Are you feeling all right?  Sometimes the transition from zero-g to Earth standard can be a little jarring.”

“I’m just peachy,” he said, leaning against a table.

“I can take you down to Dr. Chakwas—”

“And tell her what?” he laughed.  “‘Hi Doc, Joker and I were just fooling around in zero-g, but now he’s feeling a little weak in the knees…’”  He shook his head.  “I have a little more pride than that, Shepard.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared.  Joker was struck by the familiar gesture performed completely nude.  His blood started to warm again.  Clearing his throat, he reached for his pants, which had fallen a few feet away.

“Not yet,” Shepard said, reaching out for him.

Her hands cupping his cheeks, she kissed him again.  His arms circled her waist, pressing her body against his.

“As much as I’d like go again,” he said, “I wasn’t lying when I said my knees were weak.”

“I’m sorry,” said Shepard, falling back.

He touched her cheek.  “Don’t be.  I’m not in pain.  You just…you’re incredible.”

“Flatterer,” she said, but her brows knit.

“What?”

“Thinking…”

“About how this might change things?” he finished for her.  She nodded.  “We don’t have to go advertising anything to the rest of the crew, but I’m yours if you want me, Shepard.”

“I want you,” she said as she nuzzled his neck.

He sighed, closing his eyes as he held her to him.

“I should go,” Shepard said quietly.

“If I had a credit for every time you said that,” Joker laughed, “I’d be a rich man.”

They dressed quickly and then stepped into the hallway to put on their socks and boots.

“I have to do some thrust capacity calibrations with Tali,” he said as they ascended in the elevator, “but will you stop by the cockpit in a few hours?  If no one’s watching, I might just kiss your cheek.”

“I thought you just did those with me.”

“Very mature, Commander.”

“Yes, I will come up after I check in with Mordin and Rana.  Oh, and Garrus.  He said he wanted to talk to me about the cannons.  Right now, though, I’m going to take a hot shower.”

The elevator slowed and stopped, the doors opening onto the crew deck.  Joker did a quick check of the hallway.  When he had decided the coast was clear, he pressed a long kiss to Shepard’s lips.  “I’ll see you later.”

With a dreamy look in her eyes, she nodded and pressed the button for her cabin.  Joker stared at the closed doors for a couple of seconds before setting off for the showers as well.


	9. Chapter 9

“Commander,” said EDI, “Aria T’Loak is waiting in the loading dock. She has what you ordered.”

“Damn,” Shepard grumbled, though she made no move to get up.

“Double damn,” Joker groaned.

Shepard grinned over at him as he rubbed his eyes with balled fists. Though it was pushing 0730, they were still tangled in the sheets of her bed.

“Morning,” she said, touching the side of his face. The skin was imprinted with lines from folds in the pillowcase he had been sleeping on.

He covered her fingers with his and his mouth curved up into a smile. “Have to go see your dealer?”

Shepard laughed. “I would deny it, but she _did_ manage to hustle a submarine. Want to come down with me?”

“And be ridiculed by Aria?” he grumbled. “Oh joy.”

“You of all people should be able to keep up with her,” Shepard said, throwing the covers off herself and rolling out of bed.  She grinned at Joker’s appreciative whistle as she strode, naked, over to her wardrobe.

“Well,” he said, sitting up to get a better look as she got dressed, “flattery certainly helps to convince me.”

Shepard rolled her eyes as she pulled on a pair of black pants, turtleneck undershirt, and the gray, white, and black jacket she usually wore. “EDI, let Aria know I’ll be down in five minutes.”

“Certainly, Shepard.”

Picking up the pants Joker had discarded hurriedly the night before, she tossed them over to him. “Are you coming or not?”

“All right, all right,” he said, sliding his legs over the side of the bed.

Shepard stopped to look at him for a moment. He moved slowly, especially in the mornings as he worked the night's stiffness from his bones. She watched the motion of his shoulder blades under the smooth skin of his back as he stretched. He ran his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair as he got to his feet. The long planes of his torso tapered to narrow hips and tight buttocks. His legs, though not long, were well-formed. He was beautifully made, despite the Vrolick's.

Though he had spent the last three nights in her cabin, Shepard's chest still tightened with pleasure when she saw him there.

“You think this sub will be good enough?” he asked, her gaze on him going unnoticed.

“It’s our only choice,” Shepard sighed as she pulled a brush through her hair. “We don’t have the time to be picky. What Aria found will have to suffice.” And she hoped desperately that it would. Otherwise, they had no hope of testing the prototype Mordin and Rana had nearly completed. The asari had pulled up a holo of it for her at dinner the night before. It was a tiny disruptor chip that would be injected into the subject's head, just behind the right ear.

“We still have to fine tune it to fit the frequency it will have to disrupt,” Rana had told her, “but at least we have the basic design down.”

Now all they needed was a Reaper.

Shepard felt Joker's arms slide around her waist and the warmth of his chest against her back. He pressed his lips to her neck.

Her blood hummed, the worries tumbling from her mind as she turned around and kissed him.

After she had left Port Cargo four days before, she had taken a quick shower and then gone to speak with Doctors Thanoptis and Solus. Unfortunately, they were conducting an experiment that required them to seal off the lab completely. So, Shepard had gone down to speak to Garrus, but he had taken one look at her and laughed.

“You've got other things on your mind,” he cackled. “It's late. We can talk cannons tomorrow.”

Though slightly irritated at being sent off like a scolded child, Shepard had excused herself from the Main Battery and gone to the cockpit.

_“That was quick,” Joker said, smiling. “Not that I'm complaining.” He was standing at the console to the right of his chair._

_Casting a glance aft, at the nearly empty CIC, Shepard stepped behind the wall, backing him into the corner. “I couldn’t get up here fast enough,” she said as she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him hard._

_“I ran the same nav system diagnostic three times,” he said against her mouth. “I can’t get you out of my head.”_

_“Come up to bed with me,” she said, pressing her body to his._

_He groaned, sliding his fingers into her hair, loosening the braid she had woven as she rode the elevator down from her cabin. “You go first. I’ll follow in a few minutes. I…can’t go anywhere like this.” He thrust his hips so that she could feel him._

_She cursed and forced herself to pull away. “Hurry.”_

He hadn’t taken more than ten minutes. Shepard had been pacing in front of her desk when the doors slid open. They weren’t even completely closed by the time Joker had pulled off his shirt and was unclasping his belt. They had tumbled into bed and remained there for the rest of the night and a significant part of the next morning.

“Time’s a-wasting,” he said, breaking the kiss, “and Aria’s waiting.”

Shepard reluctantly stepped back, though she kept ahold of his hand. “Then let's go.”

The cargo bay doors were wide open when Shepard and Joker arrived. Aria T'Loak was standing, hands on hips, watching a massive loading crane lower a windowless submersible about the size of the old Mako into a cradle that had been bolted down in the center of the floor. She turned when she heard footsteps behind her.

“So,” she said, her eyes flicking between the two humans. A sly smile spread across her face. “ _That's_ what took you so long, Shepard. Have to say, I wholeheartedly forgive you. I'd take an extra ten minutes, too. About time you let your hair down...literally.”

Shepard touched the crown of her head. Sure enough, she had forgotten to tie her locks up. She cursed inwardly; Aria was the last person she wanted to forget herself in front of. Still, she managed to shrug. “It wasn’t my first priority.”

“I’ll bet it wasn’t,” Aria chuckled, turning to Joker. “We haven't been introduced.”

“Jeff Moreau,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Ah, the pilot. How _is_ it that Shepard attracts good looking crew members and all I get are ass-ugly batarians?”

“Nobody ever said the universe was fair,” Joker replied.

Shepard suppressed a smile, turning to Aria. “Is that a submarine, T’Loak, or are you just happy to see me?”

Aria rolled her eyes, but glanced behind her. “The ZT-109, as advertised.” The crane finished lowering it into its cradle. Its metal hull rang slightly. “She's small and agile. Unarmed at the moment, but I'm sure your turian can take care of that.”

“Damn right I can,” said Garrus as he strode over from the elevator. “Give me and Tali three days and she'll be ready.”

“Three days?” Aria asked. “Damn. If any of you ever get tired of putting your lives on the line for Little Miss Commander, there are two cushy positions waiting for you in my organization.”

The looks Garrus and Joker gave her were nearly identical despite their dissimilar facial features. Shepard burst out laughing.

Aria scowled. “Are we done here?”

“Transferring the funds now,” Shepard chuckled.  She had spoken to Miranda, who had simply entered a few lines into her Omni-tool and declared that the money was now in Shepard’s account.  She hadn’t bothered to ask about what the Illusive Man would say.  “Thanks for the help, Aria.”

“Just don't ask me for anymore favors,” she said as she sashayed out of the cargo bay.

“How's she look, Garrus?” Shepard heard Joker ask.

“The asari or a sub?” replied the turian, his mandibles flaring in amusement. “The vessel's fine. I'll have to have a look inside to see what kind of mods we're going to be able to put in her, but I think she'll be quick enough to get us down to the floor of Nasir's sea in one piece.”

“Depends on who's at the helm,” Joker said, placing a hand on the hull.

“Absolutely not!” Shepard exclaimed.

“It makes sense,” he continued, turning to face her. “EDI can easily get through the orbital defenses _and_ draw the Exo drones' fire before we hit the water. You need someone better than Tali or Jack to steer that sub. The N-19s aren't going to be easy to avoid once you get under the surface.”

“We can manage.”

“'Manage?'” Joker snarled. “You miss one turn and get hit, you all die. You need the best pilot you can get down there, and it's me.”

“He has a valid point, Shepard,” Garrus said. “Having him in the drop team would increase our chances of success.”

Shepard shook her head. “I won't put you at that kind of risk, Joker.”

He took a step closer, but made no move to touch her. “Shepard.”

He was right, of course. Tali had already expressed her concern about piloting the sub: “I can hold my own at the helm of almost any ship, Commander, but I don't know if I will be able to move fast. I am not a combat pilot.”

Jack had had her share of high-speed flights while under fire during her career, but she was not a trained helmsman. If the drop team got hit by one bolt from an N-19 drone's cannons, the sub's hull would be breached and the water pressure would kill everyone inside almost instantly.

“The impact...when we hit the water,” Shepard said, still not meeting Joker's eyes, “it could break every bone in your body.”

“That's why I had Jacob modify an envirosuit with heavy kinetic stabilizers,” he replied. “They'll absorb most of the impact. The suit's rigged with medigel applicators as well. I'll be fine, Shepard.” The fingers of his right hand moved slightly as he held back from reaching out to her. His eyes were pleading. “You don't want anyone to die.  Neither do I.  If you put someone else in that pilot's seat, we could lose you and the rest of the drop team.  A few broken bones aren’t worth lives.”

Shepard sighed, rubbing a hand across her forehead.  “All right.”

* * *

Joker watched as she turned on her heel and walked out, her strides quick and long. The last thing he saw of her were the ends of her long hair as she disappeared around the corner by the elevator.

“Shit,” he cursed, shaking his head.

“Shepard is a remarkable woman,” Garrus said from behind him, making Joker turn. “Even when faced with a decision that affects her deeply, she puts the interests of her crew above those of herself. That's not something many creatures in this galaxy can do.”

Joker leaned against the cradle. “I'm one of 'em. The only reason I want to get into this hunk of steel is to make sure she comes back safe. She already died once to save me. The least I can do is return the favor.”

Garrus placed a taloned hand on his shoulder. “You're the best pilot I've ever met, Joker. If you're at the helm on Nasir, we'll all come home.”

* * *

“Taylor!” Shepard barked as she charged into the Armory.

Jacob lifted a magnifier away from his face as he looked up from the soldering he had been doing on Grunt’s shotgun.  “Commander.”

“You did a job for Joker without my consent.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, he nodded.  “I’ve been doing custom mods for everyone on this ship since we got off the ground.  It’s never been a problem before.”

“Well it is now,” Shepard snarled, slamming her fist against the table.

“He came down a couple of days ago and asked me to mod out a suit for him so he could pilot the sub on Nasir.  Said he’s got the best chance to evading the Exos.”

“And you _agreed_ with him?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jacob said. “We're going to need all hands when the shit hits the fan. The suit will take care of him and he'll make sure you don't get sunk.” He leaned back against the table where he had been working. “Look, Shepard, a blind cave fish would be able to see how you feel about Joker. Thane and I had a bet going for how long it would take you two to figure it out. He won, damned lizard.”

Shepard glared. “I hope he made a good profit.”

“He did,” said Jacob as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Commander, I know I'm not going to be part of your drop team, but Kasumi is and I want her to come back. Best chances of that are if Joker steers that sub.”

“Yeah,” Shepard conceded. “I know. It's just—”

Jacob cut her off with a smile: “Yeah. I know. Love's bullshit, but it's the best kind.”

* * *

“Shepard?” Joker called as he took a step into her cabin. “Are you here?”

“I am now,” she said from behind him.

“I really hope you're not holding a pistol to my head,” he said before he could stop himself.

He could hear the smile in her voice. “No.” She walked past him and inside. “Are you planning to sleep in the hall tonight?”

He didn't move. “Shepard, I—”

“You don't have to explain,” she said, extending her hand. “You're right. I need you on the drop team...even if it puts you in danger. I think you feel the same way about me walking into a full on firefight. Greater good and all that.”

Joker slid his fingers into hers and drew her into his arms. “Yeah, I do. It kills me that I can't watch your back when you go out on _any_ mission. When I get the chance, though, I'm going to take it.” He stroked her cheek. “I won't lose you again.”

She kissed him, her lips warm and demanding. He pulled her tight to him as his hands caressed the length of her arched spine.

She pulled the hat from his head and tossed it onto the desk. His shirt followed it. By the time they reached the bed, they were naked.

Shepard sunk down into the pillows, but Joker stayed nearer to the end of the bed. “Come here,” she said, smiling.

Wrapping his arms around her calves, he tugged her toward him. “Not yet.”

She gasped when his tongue touched her. She was warm, and smelled of soap and arousal. Her hips jumped as he lapped at her. He laughed once, when she almost hit him in the nose.

“Sorry,” she panted. “Can't...keep still…too good.” Her head fell back as she moaned.

Joker's blood pounded through his veins. He ached to bury himself inside her, but he checked himself. He would see her satisfied first.

Her fingers in his hair, he brought her up to the edge and sent her over it. She cried out and arched into him.

Before the tremors had subsided, he slid into her. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. His bit down lightly on her lower lip, forcing her to open her mouth for him.

“Oh,” she gasped, breaking the kiss. “Just like that...I'm—oh!”

Joker groaned as she tightened around him, reaching her climax again.

When her eyes opened again, she smiled. “Your turn now.”

Every hair on his body stood on end as he was enveloped in blue biotic energy. He couldn't even hear his own cries as the orgasm hit him; he was lost in it. In what seemed like hours later, he collapsed, exhausted, against Shepard's chest. She, too, was breathing hard.

“How do you feel?” she asked as she stroked his back.

“Incredible. Why haven't you done that before?”

“It can be a little overwhelming, or so I've heard.”

“I believe addictive would be more accurate.”

Shepard laughed. “Well, why don't we try it again?”


	10. Chapter 10

“How does it feel?”

Shepard rolled her shoulders, throwing her arms forward.  “It’s constricting.”

The corners of Rana Thanoptis’s mouth turned up.  “It’s a _pressure_ suit.”

“Yeah, well,” Shepard grumbled, snapping the hood down over her ears and forehead.  Surprisingly, her hearing was still sharp.

“I couldn’t fabricate them any thinner,” Rana said, threading her fingers together and then releasing them, only to clasp them again.  “Is it going to be a problem?”

“No.  You did great, Rana.  Sure you don’t want to come down?”

“Yes,” she replied, eyes widening.  A moment later, she laughed.  “The farther I can stay away from guns, the better off I’ll be.  Mordin will be able to run the diagnostic on any parts you find.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to do this without you,” said Shepard, shooting Rana a smile as she reached over to the table on which her armor was arranged.  It was a new suit, the pieces purchased from one of Zaeed’s favorite suppliers on Omega and heavily modified by Jacob in the _Normandy_ ’s armory.  He had added a layer of bonding material that would fuse with the pressure suit Rana had developed, creating an airtight seal that would keep Shepard alive for a few minutes in the frigidity and crushing pressure of Nasir’s ocean should there be some type of hull breach.  Long enough—hopefully—to make it to the base.  Getting back to the _Normandy_ , of course, would be significantly more complicated.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Rana replied, turning back to her console.  “If that pressure suit holds, you can buy me a drink.”

“Bar’s stocked and ready for the after party,” Kasumi laughed as she strode through the Med Bay door.  “You ready, Commander?  Mordin, Garrus, and Joker are waiting down in the cargo bay.”

“Just about,” she said, grabbing one of her greaves and setting it in place.  Her lower leg tingled as the seal formed.

 “Jacob’s down with them giving their gear a last check,” Kasumi said as she picked up the pieces for the front and back of Shepard’s thigh.  She raised a brow, questioning.

Shepard nodded.  “Checking Joker’s suit, you mean.”

Kasumi sighed as she closed the armor over Shepard’s left thigh.  “I know it’s a prototype, but it’ll work.  He’ll be fine.”

As much as Jacob had told her about the kinetic barriers on the suit and despite Joker’s own reassurances, Shepard’s stomach reeled when she thought of the danger she was putting him in.  Ignoring Kasumi’s looks, she donned the chest piece, arm sections, and gloves.  Her weapons she hooked onto the armor.  She settled the helmet under her arm.  “All right.”

“Be careful,” Rana said as they strode out.

Shepard raised a clenched fist in acknowledgement before the doors slid closed.

* * *

“Looks good,” said Jacob, slapping Joker on the shoulder.

Over the pressure suit Doe-Eyes Thanoptis had given him he was wearing black and blue, heavy Kevlar armor.  It had been fabricated with kinetic stabilizers so powerful that it actually had to be plugged into a power source to run the barrier generators at their fullest capacity.  Even at a quarter of their strength, he couldn’t even feel the impact of Jacob’s hand.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Jacob’s laugh ended abruptly as he spotted the two figures rounding the corner from the elevator.  Kasumi’s long-legged stride was controlled and elegant as ever, though she was moving more quickly than she usually did in order to keep up with Shepard, who was charging toward them wearing a hard expression.  It was a perfect contrast to the smile that had touched her lips when Joker had woken her that morning.

“Status,” she barked, glancing at Jacob.

He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.  “All good, Commander.  The suits are solid as a rock.”

“Doing fine, Shepard,” Joker said when she turned her gaze on him.  He gave her a lazy salute.

“Weapons?”

“Prepped,” said Garrus, appearing from the open side of the submarine.  He was wearing a small arsenal at his back: his rifle, a submachine gun, a sticky grenade launcher, and three pistols of differing size.  Dr. Chakwas had finally allowed him to remove the bandages from his cheek, revealing a network of fine scars that still glowed slightly with cybernetics.  They would fade in time, as his carapace hardened again.

“Tactical?” Shepard demanded.

Mordin, wearing full STG infiltrator armor, approached from the elevator.  “Awaiting orders, Commander.”

Shepard nodded.  “Then let’s get this done.”  In midstride toward the sub, her body began to glow in the bright blue flare of her biotics.  The next moment she was landing at Garrus’s side, ten feet away from where she had been standing.

Joker’s skin tingled as he watched her perform the jump, his body recalling the touch of that same energy.  Knowing the pleasure of biotic contact at the right time, it was easy for him to forget that it was also one of the most powerful weapons in the galaxy.

Turning back, her eyes meeting Joker’s, Shepard yelled, “Move!”  Before he had even taken two shuffling steps, she had disappeared inside with Garrus.

Mordin sprang up into the sub first, holding his hand out for Joker.  The hatch was only three feet off the ground, but he would have had trouble climbing into without embarrassing himself.  The salarian lifted him up as if he weighed nothing.

“Been working out, Doc?” he muttered.

Mordin raised an eye ridge at him, but said nothing.

The interior of the sub was cramped at best.  It was intended to carry four passengers and the pilot, but the mods Garrus had installed took up more than half the space.  Joker had to turn sideways to get past the forward gunner’s seat and into the pilot’s chair.

Donning his helmet, he breathed in the metallic taste of pure O2.  He lowered himself carefully into his chair, forgetting that, in his armor, he could have fallen into it and never felt a thing.  Reaching up, he pulled the shoulder harness down and locked it into place.  He connected the power uplink on his suit to it.  A little chime sounded in his helmet and the control console in front of him blinked to life.

“Comfortable, Jeff?” asked EDI, who would be communicating with the drop team and providing digital backup via the _Normandy_ ’s cyber warfare systems.

He thought: _In this tin can?  No, not really._   But, as he caught sight of Shepard on his rear internal display feed, he reconsidered saying it aloud.  She was settling into her place in the aft gunner’s chair.  Garrus was manning the forward turret.  Kasumi and Mordin were strapped into the seats along the starboard hull.

“You all settled in back there, kiddies?” Joker asked.

“Stow the attitude,” Shepard snapped.

Joker flinched as if she had kicked him in the shin.  It had been months since anyone had admonished him for his shenanigans; Shepard had never done anything but smile and shake her head.

“Aye, sir,” he replied.

“All right,” said Shepard.  “We’re going in hot and fast.  EDI will get us into atmo and then drop us.  Tali installed some kinetic barriers so that the impact won’t kill us all.  It’s not going to be comfortable, but it’s better than getting liquefied.  The drop will take approximately two minutes.  During that time EDI will EMP the water below, hopefully knocking out any N-19 Tiger drones that are patrolling the area.  We won’t have the luxury of time even after the EMP.  New drones will be en route as soon as their buddies go offline.  As long as we keep the drones off our tail, Joker should be able to get us to the ocean floor in about four minutes.  Based on the schematics Liara sent us, we’ll be able to dock at a bay near the storage facility that she thinks the parts are in.

“We don’t know exactly what kind of security this place has.  Liara said it’s unmanned, but I would expect heavy and tactical mechs.  As soon as we dock and depressurize, Kasumi will cloak and scout ahead.  Garrus will be staying with Joker and the sub.  Mordin is with me.  We’ll be in contact with each other and EDI throughout the mission, so we coordinate.  No one gets left behind.”

“Aye, sir!” the drop team barked.

“Good.  Joker, get the hatch closed.”

Typing in a command, Joker watching in his display as the hatch lowered and the pressure seal engaged.  The hull integrity diagram and life support readout were positive.

“Board is green, Commander.”

“Affirmative,” came Shepard’s curt reply.  “EDI?”

“Removing the sub from the storage cradle now, Commander.”

Joker felt little as the magnetic loading clamps positioned the sub above the cargo bay doors from which they would hurtle 31,000 feet down into the ocean.

“Prepared to enter orbit on your mark, Shepard,” said EDI.

Joker glanced up at her in the display, but her face was hidden by her helmet.

“Mark!”

“Entering orbital defense ring.  Brace for evasive maneuvers.”

The _Normandy_ shuddered and lurched to starboard.  Joker’s heart rate jumped.

“Status report!” Shepard demanded.

“Exiting lower atmosphere,” EDI’s ever-calm voice replied.  “Eight seconds until drop.  Opening cargo bay doors.  Scanners indicate incoming Exo drones.”

The external video feed on Joker’s console sprang to life, providing a view of the white crests of Nasir’s ocean waves.  With a few swift command lines, he brought the sub’s engines to life.  He could hear the hum as the propellers reached cruising speed, but felt nothing.  “Ready for drop, EDI!”

“Three seconds until drop.”

The low _thrum_ of the Thanix Cannons announced the arrival of the first wave of Exo drones.

“Two seconds until drop.”

Joker drew in a deep breath, the sounds around him dampening as he focused on the display.  His fingers tightened around the yoke.

“Drop.”

The acceleration lifted him from his seat, slamming his shoulders into the chest restraints.  He could almost hear the groaning of his bones as the kinetic stabilizers in his suit kicked in.  The water was approaching at dizzying speed.  Joker looked away, watching the altimeter instead.

“N-19 Tiger drones detected in drop zone,” EDI warned.  “Preparing targeted EMP.”  A moment later: “Three drones eliminated, but others are en route.”

“Copy that,” said Shepard, her voice strained by the pressure of the drop.

“3,000 feet,” Joker said between clenched teeth.  He could see the yoke shaking.  “Brace for impact!”

He registered the blow only by the hesitation in the sub’s drive output as the propulsion system adjusted to the resistance of the water.  The brightness of his console dimmed for a moment as the power meter for his suit’s kinetic barriers spiked and then fell slightly.

“We’re in!” he cried.  “Throttling up.”

“We’ve got incoming,” Garrus growled from the forward gunner’s seat.  “One’s firing!”

Adrenaline flooded Joker’s system.  “I see.”  Executing a quick turn, he avoided the torpedo.

“Got the bastard!” Shepard snapped as the pulse from her aft turret found its mark.

Joker’s nav display was registering a few outcroppings of rock, which he swung into.  The red dots he saw on the sonar behind them flickered out.  He grinned.

The sub’s response time was far slower than the _Normandy_ ’s and took some getting used to.  Had Shepard and Garrus not been covering their collective ass, he was sure they would have been sunk.  The Exos were smaller, faster, and far more maneuverable.

The rumble of a nearby explosion shook the sub, pushing it powerfully to port and into a spire of rock.  There was a screeching of metal.

“Minor damage,” Joker said.  “Hull integrity still at ninety-five percent.”

“Too close!” Shepard roared.  “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Two more miles ‘til we reach the seafloor.  Shit!  Incoming.  Four bogies, two o’clock.”

“Firing!” said Garrus, swiveling his chair around.  “Negative contact!”

Shepard yelled, “I can’t see them.”

Joker saw eight smaller red dots appear on the sonar.  He cursed, pushing the yoke sharply away and to starboard.

“Don’t turn _into_ them!” cried Garrus.

“Shut up!” Joker retorted.  “I know what I’m doing.”  A siren began to blare in his helmet, announcing the proximity warning.  Pushing the yoke down as far as it would go, Joker pressed the release valve for their ballast.  A stream of sand and bubbles exploded up toward the surface, knocking the torpedoes into each other.  The blast slammed him into his seat as the sub rocketed downward despite the lost weight.

“Nice moves, Joker!” Shepard laughed.

“Yeah, well, it only works once,” he replied as he opened the forward valves, allowing more water to flood into the ballast tanks.  His blood was singing, his veins flooded with adrenaline.  “Half a mile.  Have to slow us down, so watch our ass.  This is where is gets sticky.”

He throttled down as an oval structure appeared on the sonar.  From the diagrams Shepard had shown, its ten layers of steel hull were kept on the seafloor with hundred-foot bolts.  It was only six feet wide and seven feet high; a single passage over a mile long.  The storage units it guarded were actually drilled into the bedrock beneath it.

Joker tuned the sound of the cannons out as he concentrated on locating the docking bay.  “EDI, you have this thing hacked, right?”

“Just breaking through the firewalls now…there.”

Two doors in the side of the facility slid open.  The dock was only slightly larger than the rest of it.  He announced their arrival as the door closed behind them again and the water around them began to drain.  “Equalizing pressure.”

“Get ready to disembark!” Shepard yelled, unclipping herself from her seat and drawing her weapon.  The others followed suit.

Taking a deep breath, Joker released the hatch.  “Good hunting,” he said quietly.

* * *

“Keep the engine on,” Shepard replied, willing herself not to look to the fore.  Tucking her gun against her shoulder, she sprang out of the sub.  Her boots _clanged_ against the metal of the facility’s hull.  “EDI, what’s the status?”

The replay was slightly garbled: “Securit…protocol active…itdel alerted…”

“Connection is bad,” said Mordin.  “External hacking assistance unavailable.”

Shepard cursed.

“Door’s open,” Kasumi announced.  “Not even a security code to enter.  I have a feeling the Council figured no one would ever get past to the drones.”

“All right, then,” said Shepard, “let’s make this quick.”

“Keep your guard up,” Garrus warned through her helmet’s audio link.

The facility’s unpainted walls reflected the glow of their thermal clips as they made their way into the pitch black passage.

“Keep your eyes open for mechs,” Shepard warned, engaging the night vision in her helmet.

“Nothing yet, Commander,” said Kasumi from somewhere ahead of them.  “No lights coming on, though.  I think the Citadel has to know by now that we’re here.”

They crept along the corridor, their boots making hollow reverberations.

“I’ve located the storage room,” Kasumi reported.  “Ah, at least this has encryptions on it.  Should take me a few minutes to hack.”

“Must take a reading before we enter,” Mordin said, breaking into a jog.  “Not sure what kind of signal parts could be emitting.”

 _If any_ , Shepard thought.  If the pieces of _Sovereign_ were bunk, they would back at square one.

They found Kasumi about thirty feet ahead by the glow of her Omni-tool.  “All set,” she said, stepping back.

Mordin took her place, kneeling at the door.  “Scans clear.”

“Let’s go.”

The doors slid open to reveal a spiral staircase lit by blue footlights.  Shepard, taking the lead, started down.  The facility was eerily calm and silent.

The staircase led down about fifty feet and then deposited them into a circular room lined with bulletproof plass.  Lights flickered on, illuminating a massive area filled with hunks of metal and singed wiring.

Mordin went immediately to the console.  “Must find way to remove plass barrier.  Blocks any signal.”  His fingers flew over the keyboard.  “Damn.  Encryptions more advanced than expected.  Kasumi?”

“On it,” she said, but Shepard stopped her.

“There’s no field on the plass,” she said, scanning it with her Omni-tool.  Collapsing her rifle, she pulled a laser cutter from her belt and placed it on the clear plastic.  An arm extended from its center and began to cut through it.  Shepard was glad for her O2 tanks.  The smell of burning plass was worse than the slums of Omega.

The arm made a full circle six times before it retracted.  Going over to the steaming section, Shepard fired off a blast of biotic energy.  The plass shuddered and fell inward.  Kasumi laughed, though she turned back and continued to work at the console.

“Effective tech,” said Mordin as he jumped through the hole and into the sand on which the wreckage of _Sovereign_ was resting.

Shepard stayed without, watching the salarian work.  After a few minutes, he emerged from the hole again, his expression grave.

“No emissions whatsoever, Shepard.  A destroyed Reaper is offline permanently.”

Despite her disappointment, she was relieved to hear that once one of the monsters was put down it stayed that way.

“Hey!” Kasumi exclaimed.  “I’m into their database.  The Council science team did a _battery_ of tests on this thing…well, what’s left of it.  Looks like the results were within the first several hours.  At least we can’t fault them for being efficient.  Oh, wait…most of these were done by the Alliance and then surrendered to the Council.”

Mordin and Shepard approached the console.  Most of the scrolling data was beyond Shepard’s comprehension.  “Anything we can use?”

“There!” said Mordin, pointing a specific section.  His eyes scanned over it faster than any human’s.  “This is data about radiation, a signal, being emitted from the ship.  Weakened quickly and died, but here is the frequency!  This is what I need, Shepard.  All I need.”  Pulling up his Omni-tool, he went to start the download.

“Way ahead of you, Solus,” said Kasumi, holding up a data link.  “I started copying the files the moment I had the firewalls down.”

Mordin grinned at her.

“Shepard!” cried Garrus over their intercom.  “You had better get back here.  The docking bay beside us is opening up.”

“Move!” Shepard yelled.  “I’ll take point.”  Kasumi and Mordin began taking the stairs two at the time.  Shepard drew on the power of her biotics, lifting herself at high speed up into the passage.  She took off at a run.  In the distance she began to hear the sound of gunfire.

* * *

“Stay inside,” Garrus ordered.  “Close the hatch.”

“The hell with—”

“Joker!  You are the only one who can pilot that thing out of here.  I’m expendable.  You’re not.  Close the hatch.”  Without a backward glance, Garrus sprang out.

Cursing, Joker engaged the hatch control.  Springing up from his chair, he pulled the pistol from the holster on his hip and slipped out before the hatch closed completely.  He remained in the shadow of the sub, watching as Garrus crouched down by the doors with his submachine gun against his shoulder.

“Shepard,” said Garrus, “what’s your position?”

“Seventy feet,” she panted.

A few tense moments passed.  Garrus was counting to himself.  The doors slid open.

Joker hardly got a chance to see who was on the other side before the flash-bang went off, blinding him and likely whoever had just arrived.

Automatic weapons fire cracked.  Joker heard someone groan.  In a flash of blue, Garrus was thrown back against the outer doors.  Joker could hear the breath knocked from his lungs.

Leaning around the side of the sub, he saw their attacker: an asari kneeling beside the fallen body of her comrade, a salarian.

“This can’t be all of them,” said a third voice, another asari.

 _You bet it isn’t_ , Joker thought as he opened fire.  The two asari glowed with biotic barriers, firing wildly.  A few rounds hit them, but none penetrated.  Joker ejected the first thermal clip and slammed another one into the pistol.

Before he could loose another round of badly aimed projectiles, something slammed into one of the asari, knocking her back with a startled cry.  As she stumbled, Shepard put two bullets directly into her helmet.  She crumpled to the ground.

Joker emptied his second clip into the other asari’s path, keeping her off of Shepard.  She peppered the nose of the sub with a few rounds before focusing on the advancing human.

“In the name of the Council” the asari screeched, “I order you to put down your weapons and surrender.  Your presence here is unauthorized.”

“You’re what they’re calling Spectres these days?” Shepard said, her fist glowing blue.  She still held her pistol in her other hand.  “That gun is too nice to be military issue.  Too bad you can’t use it.”

The asari’s eyes widened in the visor of her helmet.  She held up her weapon.  “You’re the human traitor.  Our orders concerning you are kill-on-sight.”

“Not today,” said Kasumi, decloaking right behind the asari and jamming a knife into her neck.  Blood sprayed up, soaking the thief’s arm and the floor.

“Best move on before reinforcements arrive,” said Mordin.  “Shouldn’t be long.  Suggest taking Spectre vessel.  Will not be attacked by drones.”

Shepard, who had gone over to Garrus and was helping him up, nodded.  “Fastest way out.  And there’s nothing Joker can’t drive.”

“Right,” he sighed, leaving against the sub.  His hands were shaking.

“Come on,” said Kasumi, taking him under the arm and half-walking and half-dragging him.

The Spectres had arrived on a sub that resembled one of the N-19s.  It was just has cramped as their sub has been, though, as it was designed to the carry three.

“Buckle up,” Joker said tiredly as he sealed the hatch and began to flood the docking compartment.

The journey to the surface took less time than the descent had, though Joker closely monitored the pressure readouts.

“EDI,” he said, having hailed her on the _Normandy_ ’s secure channel.  “You there?”

“Yes, Jeff.  Enjoying your souvenir?”

“Yeah,” he laughed.  “Any sign of a Council dropship?”

“There was.”

“Nice cover, EDI.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

“You are intact,” Dr. Chakwas declared as she stepped back from the scanner.  Joker was lying on one of the cots in Medical.

“I feel like I was put through a blender,” he replied, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“You have quite a few bruises, but no permanent damage.”  She patted his bicep, smiling.  “I would buy Jacob a few drinks.”

“Yeah,” Joker groaned, sitting up.

“I hear there is a gathering of sorts in Port Observation this evening,” said Chakwas.  “I am headed over once—”

The hiss of the opening doors interrupted her.  Shepard, dressed in cargos and a tank top, strode inside.  Much to Joker’s surprise, her straight, dark hair was hanging loose.  “Hey, Doc.  I was coming to invite you up to the party, but I guess you already know.”

“I was just about to make my way there,” she said.  “Perhaps you would like to escort Jeff.  He’s been complaining of some aches and pains.”

“I’m fine!” he said, sliding off the cot.  His head spun a little, but he managed not to sway on his feet.  Shepard shot him a displeased look, but he shrugged.  “All right, okay.  I’ll walk with the Commander.”

Chakwas smiled.  “Good.  I will see you both shortly.”  She glanced out the window into the mess.  “Hmm, seems as though we’re the last to leave.  This part of the deck is quite deserted.  Walk slowly, Jeff.”  And then she was gone.

Before he had the chance to say anything, Shepard was holding him by the shoulders, inspecting his mottled skin.  “You look like you’ve been through a damn blender,” she said, brows furrowed.

“I know,” he chuckled, running his hands from her waist up to her breasts.  “Feel like distracting me from the pain for a while?”

She was still smiling as she kissed him.  “You think Legion is in the AI Core?” she said against his mouth.

“He left a while earlier,” Joker replied.  “Jack demanded that he join the other revelers.”

“Good,” she purred, pushing him back against the door.  The holo flashed green; he almost fell backwards.

She pulled off his shirt, trailing her lips along his stomach.  He groaned, running his fingers through the silken strands of her hair.  She navigated around the bruises on his ribs, teasing his nipple with her tongue.  Her hand went to his crotch, stroking him through the fabric.

With a growl, he shoved her against the Core.  He nipped at the flesh of her neck, feeling the pounding of the blood through her carotid artery.  His fingers went to her belt and fly, pushing her cargos down around her ankles.  He fumbled with his own until he had freed himself.

Taking Shepard by the hips, he lifted her up.  He wouldn’t be able to hold her there for long, he knew, but he wanted her standing up, even if only for a few moments before his bones started to protest.

Her brow furrowed, but then she glanced up, taking hold of the railing above her.  The blue glow of her biotics flowed out from the amp at the base of her skull until they enveloped her entire body.  She kicked out of her boots and wrapped her legs around Joker’s waist.  Slowly, she lowered herself onto him.

It was like sliding into pure electricity.  She had only ever used her powers at the end, when he was already buried inside of her.  This was something wholly new.  He cried out, his head falling back.

She let him set the pace, simply holding herself up and clutching him to her.  More than once she breathed out his name.  He tried to hold back, to make it last, but as her back arched and she tightened around him, he lost control.

“Can’t miss the party,” she panted after it was over.  She pressed a kiss to his damp forehead.  “More later.”

“No reneging,” Joker said.  “No matter how drunk you get.”

Shepard smirked, pulling on her cargos.  “Get a few drinks in me and I want to go all night.”

Joker pulled her into his arms again, kissing her deeply.  “All the better.”

* * *

There were more bodies present at the party than Port Cargo could hold.  By the time Shepard and Joker arrived, Gardner and one of the girls from navigation were already locked in an embrace outside.  Gabby and Kenneth were playing a game of Skyllian Five with Grunt and Mordin.  The salarian was winning by the amount of credit chits—and articles of clothing—piled in front of him.

Music was pumping from the interior of the compartment.  Shepard could feel the bass in her chest as she worked her way past Chambers and Dr. Chakwas’s medical tech, Aaron, who were conversing in the doorway.  Joker was on her heels, his hand hooked in the back pocket of her cargos.  Her blood was still burning, which she hoped was not too obvious.  By the look Garrus, who was tending bar, gave her, it was.  The turian slid a pair of shot glasses toward the two of them, filling them with whisky.

Shepard took hers and nodded to him before drinking it down.  She watched the muscles of Joker’s throat move as he swallowed his.

“I am not seeing this,” she said, catching sight of Jack grinding against Legion in the back corner of the compartment.  She had clearly taught him that he was required to do something as well; he was bouncing up and down slightly from the knees.

“There are no words,” Joker cringed.

Shepard smiled.  She leaned back against the bar, hiding her hand as she traced the skin above his waistband.

There were a few other couples on the makeshift dance floor.  Jacob and Kasumi were no surprise, but Thane and Rana locked in each other’s arms was new.  Even Samara was dancing with one of the human crewmembers.

“Not a bad party,” said Miranda, appearing from the shadows behind the bar.  “Cerberus is processing the data Kasumi downloaded.  The Illusive Man was really quite pleased.  Dr. Solus and Dr. Thanoptis have made more progress on a prototype, but—”

“No business tonight, missy,” growled Zaeed from the other side of Joker.  “Buy you a drink?  Unless that fine body of yours has alcohol inhibitors, of course.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, but strutted over and grabbed Zaeed’s drink.  She emptied it.  “A thousand credits says it can drink your ugly mess under the table.”

“Give me the damn bottle, Garrus,” the mercenary snarled.  “And two glasses.  Don’t want to get cooties after all.”

Shepard tugged on Joker’s hand, pulling him away from the bar.  “Have we made enough of an appearance yet?”

He laughed, snatching up another glass of whisky and holding it out to her.  “Nope.  I’m expecting ‘all night.’”


	11. Chapter 11

“There’s almost no scar at all,” said Joker, trailing his finger behind Shepard’s right ear. His lips followed it, making her smile. “I can’t even feel it.”

“The implant is tiny,” she said. “There shouldn’t even be a scar.”

The day before, Mordin and Rana had injected the first prototype anti-Indoctrination device beneath Shepard’s skin. They had been working on it for two straight weeks while the _Normandy_ was docked at Omega. The device would disrupt the frequency at which the Reapers’ signal was broadcast, preventing Shepard—and anyone else who bore one—from being Indoctrinated. At least, that was the intention. They had yet to test it.

While the doctors had been hard at work, the rest of the crew had been enjoying a small measure of shore leave. Shepard herself had done some odd jobs for Aria in order to stay sharp, but mostly she had spent the days with Joker, either tangled up in the sheets of her bed or browsing through the markets of Omega.

“Even if there was a scar,” said Joker against her mouth. “Call me krogan, but I like them.”

“Commander Shepard,” said EDI, interrupting them. “You have an incoming message from Admiral Hackett at Alliance HQ.”

Surprised, both she and Joker asked, “Hackett?”

“Shepard,” said the admiral, having been patched through.

“Go ahead, Hackett,” she replied, rolling out of bed and pulling on a standard issue Cerberus jumpsuit.

“I need to discuss a sensitive matter with you. Privately.”

With a sigh, Joker got to his feet. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Flight Lieutenant Moreau,” said Hackett.

“You can recognize me by my voice, sir?” Joker asked, hands on his hips. Shepard stifled a laugh. She was glad Hackett was coming through the audio feed only; Joker was still naked.

“Anderson told me you were with Shepard,” Hackett said.

Joker’s eyes went wide. “He what?”

“He means with me on the _Normandy_ ,” Shepard hissed in his ear. “Not with me in the biblical sense.” Planting a kiss on his lips, she smirked and said, “Dismissed, flight lieutenant.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” he replied, landing a loud slap to her buttocks as he walked passed her.

“EDI, bring up the visual,” Shepard said after he had gone. She engaged the screen at her private terminal and Admiral Hackett’s face appeared.

“Commander,” he said. “I assume you still use that title.”

She nodded, clasping her hands behind her back. “I do, sir.”

“Thank you for your time,” he said. “I’ll keep this brief. We have a deep cover operative out in batarian space. Her name is Dr. Amanda Kenson. She recently reported that she found evidence of an imminent Reaper invasion.”

“According to the Alliance and the Council, the Reapers are a myth,” said Shepard.

“Officially, yes,” Hackett sighed. “But we were both there when _Sovereign_ attacked the Citadel. We know the truth.”

She nodded. “Fine. But if Dr. Kenson is an Alliance asset, why call me?”

Hackett looked down. “Shepard, I’m aware that you’ve chosen not to be reinstated with the Alliance Military. Anderson informed me several weeks ago when he sent over the data you gave him. Dr. Kenson’s been using it to identify the object she found.”

Shepard’s brows rose. “What object?”

“I don’t have any details,” said Hackett. “Dr. Kenson was arrested by batarian officials before she could find out anything conclusive. They’re holding her in a secret prison on terrorism charges. Preserving Dr. Kenson’s cover is paramount if she’s going to get out of this alive. If the batarians knew she was reporting back to Earth…” He shook his head. “That’s why I need your help, Shepard. You would be one person going in alone to save a friend—as personal favor to me. It’s not an Alliance operation.”

“Alone?” asked Shepard. “I’ve got a good squad, Admiral. I trust them with my life.”

“If the batarians see an armed squad entering the prison,” he said, “they’ll kill Dr. Kenson. She and I go back a long way, Commander, and I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“I understand, Admiral,” said Shepard. “If it were one of my squad, I’d do the same.” _If it were Joker, not even a fully armed battalion of batarian soldiers could stop me._ “I’ll take care of it. Quietly.”

“Thank you, Shepard. I’ll forward the coordinates of the prison. Hackett out.” His image disappeared.

Shepard turned away, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her crew wasn’t going to like her going in alone. It would be easier to keep them in the dark, just as a Spectre would. Calling up the private transport service for Omega on her terminal, she booked a seat on the next passenger barge leaving for the Bahak System. The barge was shipping out that night and, with hope, she’d be back, with Dr. Kenson in hand, before breakfast.

#####

When he woke up the next morning, Joker wasn’t too surprised to find Shepard’s side of the bed empty. After her call from Admiral Hackett, she had told him that she was going out on a job and likely wouldn’t be back until the next day cycle. He had asked her who she was taking with her, but she had deftly avoided the question by sliding her fingers into the waistband of his pants. Half an hour later, she was gone and he had forgotten to ask her where she was going.

“EDI,” he said, stretching his tight muscles as he pushed the sheets from his body.

“Yes, Jeff?”

“Could you raise the Commander for me?”

A second later, EDI replied, “I have hailed her frequency, but there was no answer.”

Joker sat up, his brows knit. “What do you mean? She’s on a mission. She has to have her comm unit with her.”

“Commander Shepard was fully equipped when she disembarked last night,” said EDI.

“Can you locate her signal?” Joker asked, pulling on his pants and shirt.

“Negative. She is not currently within tracking range.”

Joker balked. “What? That tracker is good for the entire Omega Nebula.”

“I am aware of the specifications of the tracking device, Jeff,” said EDI. “It went out of range exactly fourteen hours and forty-three minutes ago at the jump point from Omega’s mass relay.”

“She left the system?” Joker asked, beginning to worry despite Shepard reassurances that this was just another job. “Who’s with her?”

“All _Normandy_ ’screwmembers are present and accounted for,” EDI replied. “I presume the commander went alone.”

A cold sense of dread filled Joker’s stomach. It was Alliance protocol that when a marine had not returned by the specified time or reported in that he or she would was detained for one reason or another, he or she was presumed missing-in-action and a search party was formed. In all his years in the Alliance, Joker had only ever seen it happen twice, and in both cases, the missing marine had eventually turned up dead.

“EDI,” he said, moving as quickly he could toward the door, “tell Garrus and Tali to get up to the CIC right now. Call up the manifest of every passenger vessel that left Omega in the last twenty-four hours. Shepard has to be on one of them.”

“Garrus and Tali are on their way,” said EDI. “I am processing the manifests now.”

“Double time, EDI,” Joker said as the elevator doors closed behind him.

“I have it,” she said a moment later. “Shepard booked passage on a batarian transport to Aratoht.”

“Bahak?” Joker said. “What the hell would she be doing there?”

“Should I raise Admiral Hackett?” asked EDI.

“No,” said Joker, shaking his head. “If this job came from him, it was eyes-only for Shepard. He won’t be able to tell us anything.”

The elevator doors slid open on the CIC. Tali and Garrus were already there, both looking somewhat bewildered.

“What’s going on, Joker?” asked Tali.

“Shepard’s MIA in batarian space,” he said. “She jumped out of system about fifteen hours ago and hasn’t reported back. We’re going to find her.”

“We’ll assemble a drop team,” said Garrus.

Joker nodded. “Good. And Garrus? Hurry.”

#####

Shepard’s head was fuzzy as she blinked her eyes open. The familiar beeps and hums of a medical bay made her think for a moment that she was back in Miranda’s lab, her body still being reconstructed. But then the memory of what happened earlier that day came rushing back.

After docking on Aratoht, she had caught a taxi to the location she had marked on her omni-tool. It was a back entrance to the prison in which Dr. Kenson was being held.

Sneaking inside had been easy enough, but she and Dr. Kenson had had to fight their way out to the transport bay. From there, they had commandeered a shuttle and flown to the asteroid that housed Object Rho, which Dr. Kenson believed was some kind of Reaper artifact.

As it turned out, it was.

It was a beacon, a transmitter that broadcast the Indoctrination signal, just as the Reapers themselves did. As Dr. Kenson and her team had worked around it, it had gradually bent them to its will, commanding them to halt the project to destroy the Alpha Relay.

Shepard had tried to stop them, but they had gotten the best of her. The last thing she remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was Dr. Kenson’s eyes glowing a bright yellow.

“I don’t understand it,” said someone from beyond Shepard’s range of vision. “She’s been exposed to Object Rho for nearly twenty-four hours. It should be more than enough, but she’s not responding.”

Groaning to draw attention to herself, Shepard began to sit up.

“Oh my god,” said a panicked young medical tech. “She’s waking up. The Indoctrination isn’t working. Call security!”

Shepard was too quick for her, though, grabbing her by the arm. “Where’s Dr. Kenson?” she demanded.

“Here, Shepard,” said the doctor from behind a pane of thick glass, her eyes glazed with the effects of Indoctrination. “Really, I must know how you’re aware right now. The object’s influence is even stronger than _Sovereign’s_ was.”

“Go to hell!” Shepard spat, though she silently thanked Mordin and Rana for their brilliance in creating the anti-Indoctrination implant.

Kenson laughed. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

“Doctor!” cried the tech. “Help me!”

“Why, dear?” Kenson asked, pointing to a large digital clock counting down on the wall behind her. “We have only ten more minutes to wait until the arrival.”

“Yes,” the tech muttered as Kenson went out. “The arrival.”

Cursing, Shepard tried to think fast. She had to get out of the med bay and up to the project control room to restart the thrusters that would drive the asteroid into the Alpha Relay. The tech was too heavily Indoctrinated to help her, but she noticed that there was a mech control unit around the corner. The mech itself was powered down on the opposite side of the glass, the side on which Dr. Kenson had been standing.

Charging up her biotics, Shepard gave the medical tech a short jolt, knocking her unconscious. Leaving the woman crumpled on the floor, Shepard went to the console and powered the mech up. Maneuvering it with care, she managed to get it to open the med bay door. Striding through, she spotted her armor in a locker to her left. Hacking the lock easily, she equipped and armed herself.

The project control room was several floors up, and fortunately, Shepard was able to get to elevator without being spotted. Watching the clock on her omni-tool, she hoped there was still time to engage the thrusters. As the elevator doors opened, Shepard jogged over to the nearby terminal.

“Welcome to Project Control,” said the VI that managed the station’s operations.

“I want to activate the project,” said Shepard.

“Warning!” the VI announced. “Activating the Project will result in an estimated three hundred and five thousand casualties. Do you wish to continue?”

Shepard swallowed heavily. “Can you raise the batarian authorities on Aratoht?”

“All communications from Project Station have been disabled,” said the AI. “Communications must be re-enabled manually.”

“Where is the comm tower?” asked Shepard.

“Outside the station, level seven.”

Taking a breath, Shepard said, “Activate the project.”

“Project activation in progress,” said the VI as the thrusters fired, shaking the station. “Warning! Collision with mass relay is imminent. Begin evacuation procedures.”

“Shepard, no!” cried Dr. Kenson, her face appearing on the screen. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You leave me no choice. If you will not stop this asteroid, it must be destroyed.”

“VI,” said Shepard, overriding the terminal, “tell me where to find Dr. Kenson.”

“Dr. Kenson is traveling to the reactor core module,” said the VI.

_She’s going to melt it down_ , thought Shepard. Turning to the terminal, she asked, “Is it possible to divert power from the elevators?”

“Yes,” said the VI. “Shall I divert power now?”

“Affirmative,” said Shepard.

“Power diverted.”

Disengaging from the terminal, Shepard sprinted toward the stairs, pressurizing her armor as she went. As she arrived at level seven, she could see the comm tower a hundred feet ahead. The Alpha Relay filled her vision as she charged to the tower and activated the external comm channel.

“Attention Aratoht,” she said. “All colonists living in the Bahak system: This is—”

She was interrupted by a synthetic voice that she had come to know well. Straightening, she took a step toward the holographic form of _Harbinger_.

“Shepard,” said the Reaper, “you have become an annoyance. You fight against inevitability. Dust against cosmic winds. This seems a victory to you. A star system sacrificed. But even now your greatest civilizations are doomed to fall. Your leaders will beg to serve us.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, the words tasting of ash in her mouth. “Maybe we can’t win this, but we won’t lie down and die either. We’ll fight you…regardless of the odds.”

“You have proven resilient, but your transient form is weak. You will die, Shepard, and your species will fall. Prepare yourselves—” As though it was imploding, the hologram suddenly warped, the synthetic voice that had echoed in Shepard helmet fizzling out. Where Harbinger had been a moment before, the bow of the _Normandy_ now hung, the forward airlock opening.

“Shepard!” Joker cried, his voice sharp in her helmet’s audio link. “Come on!”

Breaking into a sprint, Shepard leapt aboard her ship. She was thrown against the bulkhead as _Normandy_ accelerated. As the airlock pressurized, she pulled off her helmet and slammed her fist against the door. Nearly tumbling into the gangway on the other side, she ran into the cockpit.

“Get us out of here, Joker!” she said. “The relay is going to be destroyed.”

“Calculating approach vectors,” Joker said, his voice as steady it was for a routine jump. Shepard watched his fingers skipping over the console, struck by the elegance of the practiced movements.

The proximity alerts wailed, but Joker ignored them. “Initiating jump sequence,” he said. “Three, two, one…” The blue glow of the mass effect field enveloped the ship and in a single bright flash, Bahak System was behind them.

“Jump complete,” said Joker, allowing himself a deep breath.

“EDI,” Shepard snapped, “what’s the status of the Bahak System?”

“The detonation of the Alpha Relay’s core yielded a 400,000 megaton explosion, Commander,” the AI replied. “The Bahak System did not survive.”

Shepard looked down. “Did any ships make it out?”

“The _Normandy_ was the only vessel to jump out of the system before the detonation.”

“Damn it!” Shepard cursed, pounding her fist against the bulkhead.

“Commander,” said EDI, “I overheard the final transmission to the asteroid. It was Harbinger.”

“Harbinger!” Joker barked, turning his chair around to face her. “What the hell were you doing _alone_ on that rock with a Reaper, Shepard?” When she didn’t immediately reply, he snarled, “Answer me, dammit!”

“I couldn’t tell anyone,” she said, her voice low. “I had to go in alone.”

“Screw that!” Joker growled. “You would be dead if we hadn’t picked up that call to the batarians.”

Shepard nodded. “Thank you.”

“Save it,” he said. Looking down, he rubbed his forehead.

“This had to be done, Joker,” Shepard said. “It gave me a chance to test the implant, and to delay the Reapers’ arrival.” She hesitated, not wanting to say what she knew she had to. “The mission has to come first.”

“Don’t you dare give me the regs speech, Shepard!” Joker snarled. “I lost you once. I won’t do it again. We’re in this thing together now, to hell and back.”

Shepard closed the distance between them, pressing her mouth to his. Whatever feeble argument she had been trying to find faded away as she leaned against the armrests of Joker’s chair so that she could deepen the kiss.

Her pulse, cybernetically enhanced to stay low even in the most harrowing combat situations, raced as she released the pressure seal on her armor. The heavy gauntlets were the first to hit the floor. They were followed by the shoulder guards and gloves, then the chest and back pieces, greaves and boots. In only the sleek, black base layer, Shepard swung into the chair and straddled Joker’s thighs. Adrenaline was still surging through her veins as she clung to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and the muskiness of his skin.

He groaned against her lips as she worked her hands under his shirt, short fingernails scratching at the dusting of hair on his chest. His hands came up to her cheeks and then back to the base of her skull, his fingers working into her hair. She bit at his lower lip until he opened his mouth for her tongue.

Shepard’s breath was coming up short as she fumbled with the clasp of Joker’s belt. She could feel him hard between her legs and pressed herself against him, desperate to be closer. He hissed in pain, breaking the kiss.

A curse was on the tip of Shepard’s tongue, but she lowered her eyes and met his. They were open wide, though the glassiness of lust had begun to overtake them. Shepard caught her breath. Joker was as fragile as any organic, but carried himself without fear. He had put himself in more dangerous situations than he should have…for her. All he had wanted was to know where she had gone so that he could come to her if she needed him.

His eyes began to clear as he realized she was stopping. Perhaps he thought she was coming to her senses. The cockpit was completely open to the CIC, and had they gone any further, it could have been witnessed by a quarter of the crew. Shepard found that she didn’t care.

“Are you all right?” Joker asked, his hands sliding down to her shoulders.

She watched him blink once, his concern apparent. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead.

“Jeff,” she said, taking in every detail of his face. He was surprised at her use of his given name. “I love you.”

He smiled slowly, sighing. “I know. What’s not to love?”

“ _Joker._ ”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed. “I love you, Shepard.”

“To hell and back?” she asked, her nose touching the tip of his.

“To hell and back.”

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, I'm finally finished with this story! Thanks to everyone who stuck with me during the several years it took to write it!


End file.
